Seven Days in Sunny June
by LunaEquus
Summary: For seven days in June I wasn't lonely... A mini series exploring the relationship between Kartik and Gemma. Seven occurrences around the time of Gemma's 17th birthday. Complete!
1. Introspection

Disclaimer: Characters are Libba Bray's. Story is mine.

(edited)

This is the first chapter of a mini-series I am aspiring to do. The basis is the relationship between Gemma and Kartik, with backstories of whichever character's POV the particular chapter is in. Notice that this is how I view their relationship, should they ever overcome their individual stubborness. This takes place when they are a bit older and a lot more open with their feelings with each other.

This one is in Kartik's POV. I've made him seem sort of unsure of himself, with less composure than the novel's make him out to be. As you may notice though, his character in the books is steadily becoming less fierce and certain, and more tender and emotional.

And before I go on, yes, there were showers in the Victorian era. And the name meanings are true. I've done my research!

So now I will shut up - enjoy!

The faucet creaks beneath my hand as I grip the porcelain and iron knob and turn it. Water sprays from the metal spout above my head and I quickly close the curtain to block the water from me. Showers are a new thing to me as well as to the Doyle household. I am still unsure of why Gemma has insisted that I bathe in her house, but the thought that she is in the room next to me as I undress is quite thrilling, to say the least. I also appreciate the gesture, as I haven't properly bathed in a few days. Not that I am unhygienic, of course, but I have been traveling these past few days, and have only just arrived. Needless to say, Gemma was thrilled to see me, though not as much as I was to see her. She is quite the sight for sore eyes.

I peel the layers of clothing from my tired body as I wait for the water to heat up. I stick my hand through the curtain. It is still lukewarm. An ornate mirror across the room catches my attention. I walk over and inspect myself in the framed glass. The same old reflection stares back at me. The same curly black hair, same high cheekbones, and same brown eyes as always. A sigh escapes my lips, and I frown at myself. I am not bad-looking, I suppose. I do look a bit older as well, which pleases me, for I have always thought myself to look quite like a child. But I certainly hope I look older as I shall turn nineteen this coming October.

The water is hotter now, and I step into the porcelain basin. I now know why Gemma insisted I bathe in her bathroom instead of the one in the mews; it is like pure bliss in here. Hot water rains on me, sliding down my body and easing my tired muscles. A strange, erotic feeling comes over me as I remember that this is where Gemma bathes too. I can almost picture her in my place, water caressing her curves and steam rising in clouds above her lovely head. Or perhaps she would stand right in front of me now, and we would melt together, slippery with soap and water. My legs buckle slightly at the thought.

I watch the water run over my chest and shoulders in rivers. I was blessed with a good physique – broad shoulders, long legs, and lean muscle. I am tall too, which is also a plus. Gemma is a tall girl, but I am taller still; we are good heights for each other. I would never be satisfied some petite bird of a woman. Gemma is the epitome of femininity, in my opinion. Of course, she's not exactly graceful, but her clumsiness merely adds to her charm.

Gemma's appearance burns in my eyes. I've had the fortune of seeing her without a corset before, and she has a lovely body. I shall never understand why society prefers unnatural waists and curves to the real thing. A woman's beauty is in her individuality, not in how she measures up to others. I certainly struck gold with Gemma, for she stands out against a crowd. Especially lately, she is nothing short of enchanting.

A smile forms at my lips as I recall how she looked earlier today. She looks older, as I do, but the effect is very different on her. She is still the same silly, clumsy Gemma I will always know and love, but she has moved past that awkward stage that adolescents often go through. She has always had the height, but she has filled out since I've last seen her. Her breasts are fuller, as are her hips. The result is quite devastating. She looks reminiscent of an hourglass, a perfect, flesh-and-blood hourglass. Slim where she should be slim and curvy where curves are needed. The very thought makes my head cloudy. I want Miss Gemma Doyle. I want her more than I've ever wanted anything else.

I absently examine a scar on my chest, long and slightly jagged; it is my souvenir of my late-night encounter with Gemma's friend, the abominable Felicity Worthington. It looks to be healing nicely, though I know it shall never completely fade. I let my eyes travel over the rest of my body, hardly taking in the sight of other numerous bruises and scars. They are my battle wounds and I am proud of them. I wonder what Gemma would have to say if she ever saw them.

Would she scold me for not being careful?

Would she fawn over me like a mother?

Would she trail kisses over them with those perfect rose-colored lips of hers?

Such a stimulating thought that is, for I have a few good bruises on my inner thighs and a scar on my lower abdomen. I wonder what it would be like to see Gemma's golden red head between my legs; would she like what she found there?

I stare at the aforementioned area and at the hardness there. I wonder when I'll ever get to use it. I have already decided that if I do, it shall be with Gemma, as she is the only desirable woman I know and should ever like to be with. But how utterly inappropriate it is to be turned on right now, in Gemma's very own bathroom. Well I shan't do anything about it now, so I select a particularly large bottle of shampoo from the shelf and promptly drop it on my foot. I cannot suppress a yelp, but I have succeeded in diminishing my desire.

Oh what is it about her that has me so hot and bothered all the time?! Of course I already know the answer, but it still does not take away from the mystique that is Gemma Doyle. She's beautiful, but I have seen other beautiful girls that haven't had this effect on me. Her friend, Miss Cross, was a pretty girl, though too thin and somewhat a cliché of a girl. I easily could have fallen under her spell, as she was the first female I have seen nearly naked up close, but I didn't. I never thought of her sexually, never longed for her, but Gemma thought I did. Just bringing up Miss Cross's name had Gemma jealous and suspicious of me. That's why I did it – to make Gemma jealous.

I reach for the shampoo I dropped on my foot and work some through my hair. It has a floral scent to it, and I am afraid my head will smell of flowers for days.

I find a certain sadistic pleasure in making Gemma mad. She gets so passionate when angry. Oh how I'd like to see her re-route that passion towards me. I am sure that someday it will happen, for things between us get so heated sometimes, even if we are not touching at all. Gemma and I have a sort of silent agreement about our relationship; we know that things are too complicated as it is without making our forbidden dreams a reality. But now that I am back, things may be different. She is my sole companion in this world, the only friend I have. Without the Rakshana, I have no one to interact with, to relate to, except for her. Sexual desires aside, I need Gemma's presence to reassure me that there is still someone that cares for my existence.

Things were so different for me growing up. I was not like the others taken in by the Rakshana for training. I was younger, and it was not usual for members of the same immediate family to be chosen. Yet I was chosen a few years after Amar, and I was raised by the brotherhood. Because of my age and rumors of my fate (because there were rumors that I was the "chosen" guardian, so I've heard), I was given special treatment. More personal training, a better education, and fewer punishments were some of the treatments distinguished from the others. And, of course, I was hated for it.

Older members didn't like me for two reasons. One, I was considered better than them, and two, I showed more promise and learned faster. At such a young age, I was an easy target for bullying, so to speak. I learned to trust no one but Amar and the highest ranks of the Rakshana. Though now I trust no one but Gemma. I have to, because she makes me feel so vulnerable. Yet I submit to it; I want to feel exposed around her. I cannot say why, but I love that feeling when I am with her - the feeling of uncertainty and electricity and anticipation. If this isn't love, I am not sure what is.

It is not even as if our relationship is only physical; on the contrary, some of our more passionate moments are filled with debates and philosophy, and dreaming and reminiscing. I know that I love her, but I am afraid, for I also know that she is all I have in this life, and that I would be lost should I ever lose her. It is times like these that I wish Amar was still alive. I have so many questions that books cannot answer. I may be educated in many things, but I remain clueless about love and women.

I miss Amar. I still mourn him. I imagine his death would be easier to accept if I knew for sure if he crossed over. Gemma once saw in a vision that he was in the Winterlands, and I have seen the same in my dreams. Could it be that he is among Circe's army? Or are my dreams nothing more than my subconscious fears haunting me even as I sleep?

"Immortal". "Deathless". These are the meanings of his name. They mock me, for my brother is gone from this world, and likely damned in the next. I wonder why our parents chose that name for him. I wonder why they gave me my name - Kartik, the Hindu god of war. It could not be farther from the truth. I am no warrior. I am a disgrace.

My parents knew of the Order and the Rakshana; my mother, especially. I wonder if she even knows that her eldest son is dead. I wonder if she even thinks of us. Does she miss us? Does she know I am alive and alone? Is she ashamed to know that I have failed the Rakshana?

Scrubbing soap into my chest and arms, I close my eyes and try to remember my mother's face. I do not remember much, but I can still recall bits and pieces of my past. We were not without means; in fact, we were quite well-off, considering the English were taking over. I remember sitting on her lap as a child and how the fine silk of her saris were slippery beneath me. I can remember sitting on my father's shoulders to watch the Englishmen ride their horses through the streets. I can recall that those shiny horses were my favorite animals and that my favorite color was green. I remember playing hide and seek with Amar in the marketplace and how my mother's friends would always pick me up and make a fuss over me.

Perhaps the most vivid memory of my short childhood was the day I was taken by the Rakshana, and how my parents tried to hide their grief. Though it was an honor, I imagine it was very hard for them to give up both of their sons. I sometimes wonder if my parents had any more children after I left.

I stand for a few moments to let the water rinse the soap off of me. There is a soft knock on the door. I freeze, if it's not Gemma, then I am surely doomed. The door opens and closes again with a quiet click.

"Kartik!" Gemma's voice is a frantic whisper.

I relax and stick my head out of the shower. "Hello Gemma." I say, trying to speak calmly, as if I am not naked and dripping wet as the love of my life stands before me.

She stares at me, blushing furiously. I do not see what the problem is; the shower curtain is quite opaque. She is always blushing lately; I have to say that I quite enjoy having such an effect on her. I shake the wet hair from my eyes, sending droplets of water everywhere. Some land on her dressing gown, dotting the pale green embroidery.

"Do you have something to say, or did you just wish to gawk at me? If that is the case, I can surely open the curtain all the way, Gem." I say, teasing her.

She finds her voice. "I was just wondering what is taking you so long."

"I'm nearly finished. You could hand me that towel over there."

"……"

"Please."

I turn of the water as she grabs the towel for me. She hands it to me, and I take it, opening the curtain as I do so. I fear her eyes shall pop out of her head. She turns away quickly, and her pale face reddens deeper.

"Kartik, please!"

"Please, what?" I do love teasing her like this. What I love even more is the knowledge that she only turns away because of her breeding. I know all too well that she'd rather stare, the silly minx of a girl. But I do not wish to be rude, so I wrap the towel around my waist. "Better?"

She turns her face to me cautiously. "Perhaps."

I laugh. "Come here, Gemma."

She hesitates, and for a moment I regret what I've said. It sounds quite like an invitation to something carnal. I do not wish to seem eager for her maidenhood, though, in all honesty, I am.

"Why don't you come here, Kartik?" She asks shyly, surprising me.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Possibly." She bats her eyelashes for effect.

We both laugh. It is good to be in the company of a friend again. I step out of the shower onto the floor and pull her into a tight embrace.

She gasps. "Kartik, you dolt, you've gotten me all wet!"

"As were my intentions, Miss Doyle."

"Yes, but this dressing gown is new and you've gone and ruined it!"

I look down at myself. "The last time I checked, this was water and not acid. Don't overreact, Gem."

"I am surely not overreacting!"

I've angered her; it makes me feel giddy. I flash her what I hope is my most charming smile.

Her face softens a bit. "Maybe I was just a bit. But you are still quite obnoxious, you know."

"Such a lovely girl."

She makes a face, but I know she is pleased with my compliment.

She takes in my soggy appearance. "You should dry off."

"So should you."

She narrows her pretty eyes at me. "Do you have a change of clothing? The ones you came in are filthy." She says while wrinkling her nose at the pile of clothes I discarded on the floor.

I nod. "I have more clothes in my rucksack."

She seems satisfied. "Well then, get dressed and we can have a chat in my room when you're finished."

She leaves before I have a chance to answer. No matter. As if I would give up the chance to spend time with her. Since I've left the Rakshana we are more like friends; our conversations are no longer limited to talk of the Realms and magic, and for that I am grateful. Now I have the pleasure of seeing another side of her.

I dry off and pull on my clothes with haste. I rub my head frantically with the towel and then step up to the mirror for a final inspection of myself. If Gemma is fond of the "drowned rat" look, then I'm fit to make her swoon tonight. I sigh, frustrated, and tug at my hair. I let my hand drop to my side. It's no matter, I cannot change the way I look now. I hurry into Gemma's bedroom, where she sits in her bed reading.

She looks up from her book. "I see you can be quick when you set your mind to it." She says with a small smile.

"What are you reading?" I ask in response.

"Oh," she turns the cover to me. "_Jane Eyre. _My grandmother is making me read it. She believes it will make me more cultured." She rolls her eyes.

"I see. What is it about?"

Gemma shuts the book and places it on her nightstand. "I honestly have no idea. Something to do with adultery and a governess having an affair with her employer, I believe. I do not see how it should make me more cultured." She cocks her head to the side. "I rather think it will just put ideas into my head."

Gemma's behavior is a pleasant surprise. She pats the bed next to her. "Come." She says cheerfully.

I make to kick off my shoes, but I find that I am barefoot. My mind has seemed to escape me. I notice that she has turned down the sheets on the side opposite her, so I crawl under and move in close. We must look like a married couple, and I shudder to think what would happen should anyone walk in her room now. Gemma doesn't seem worried, though, and that is reassurance enough for me. I gingerly place my head next to hers on the pillow. The bed is very comfortable, and I realize I have never slept in one so fine.

"You smell like flowers, Kartik." There is a touch of laughter in her voice.

"So do you."

"Yes, but I am supposed to." She says, turning to face me.

Our faces are very close, and our breath mingles. I can count every one of her long eyelashes and see a hint of a blush dusting her pale cheeks.

"I've missed you Kartik." She murmurs.

I trace a stray curl against her cheek. She looks like a princess with her red curls spread against the pale pink pillows. I let my finger slide down the curve of her neck. She is a wonder to me. Porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, emerald eyes framed by dark lashes. Green has always been my favorite color. I allow myself one gentle kiss on her soft lips.

"I've missed _you, _Gemma." I say, brushing strands away from her smooth forehead.

She closes her eyes against my touch. All is quiet but our breathing, but only for a moment. She opens her eyes with a new expression on her face.

"So what took you so long in the shower, _monsieur_?" She asks slyly.

So we're back to this.

"I was thinking." I say carefully.

"Were you? About what?"

She bites her bottom lip absently, but it has me quite transfixed. Her white teeth press small indents in the pale pink flesh, flushing the skin. She notices me looking at her mouth.

She presses her question again, licking her lips slowly. "What were you thinking so long and hard about, Kartik?" She is doing this on purpose, probably giddy to see that for once, I am not as quick-witted as I let on.

"Uh…" All I can get out is a groan. Her pink tongue has drawn a moist sheen across her lips, and they just beg to be tasted. I do so, pressing my lips to hers firmly, half wondering if she'll pull away. She tastes so good that I can't help but kiss her again, harder than before.

"Were you thinking about me? I should very much like to know if you were," she says, eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Oh you blessed girl, yes I was thinking about you! Yes! The hold you have on me is extraordinary; how could I not think of you in such a situation?

"Kartik…"

I nod feebly. She smiles, satisfied, and turns onto her back, so that her silhouette is brightened by the lamp's golden light. I watch as she absently plays with the ribbons of her nightgown. I suddenly realize that she is no longer wearing her dressing gown. Blood rushes to my face, for there is hardly any more modesty between us.

"I am starting my season soon, Kartik."

"I know."

"I'm not very happy about it."

"I know." This sad truth sobers me from my bout of lovesickness.

"I am afraid…," she starts, speaking to the ceiling "I fear that our time together shall end soon." Her voice is very quiet.

I do not speak for a few moments. My heart hammers in my chest. Part of me knows that she is probably right, for our union would go against nearly all of society's standards. But part of me refuses to let that ruin what we have. I find strength in this.

"Tell me something, Gem." I pause. Her eyes remain fixed on the ceiling.

"Look at me." I say, turning her face to mine gently. A tear falls from her eye, crystallized by the dim light.

"Gemma, something tells me that for all of your life, you've had to cater to the wishes of others. I can understand that, as I was in that same situation. As long as you did what was asked of you, no – demanded of you, people were satisfied, but no one ever cared to know how you felt."

She says nothing, but her eyes tell me I am right. They are almost pleading with me.

"Gemma, what do _you _want?" I ask quietly.

Her eyes widen. She looks off to a spot behind me for a few moments. I hold my breath, for what she says could surely break my heart. Perhaps all along I've just been a playmate of sorts, someone to toy with, with no strings attached.

Her eyes return to mine, and the fear is gone from them.

"No one has ever really asked me that before. Not sincerely, at least."

"Never?"

"Never." Her eyes wander over my face. "Kartik, you have been so good to me."

Here it comes, the "thank you for playing with me, but I've got to get back now". I hope my face doesn't betray my feelings. I should hate for her to be troubled at my expense. She doesn't seem to notice, for she continues speaking.

"In fact, you are the only one that knows me, the real me, and still tolerates me."

Her words puzzle me. "I do not tolerate you."

"Oh?"

I smile at her. "I like you very much." I hesitate. "In fact, Gemma Doyle, I do believe I love you."

There, I've said it. Regardless of her feelings towards me, I've told her the truth about I feel. And it feels damn good to get it out.

Her face breaks into the loveliest smile I've ever seen. "Do you really mean that?"

"I do. I love you. I love you Gemma Doyle, and I am not afraid to say it. You are the most beautiful, unique, clever girl I've ever had the privilege to meet. Now tell me what you want before I go insane." I try to say this calmly, but my heart is close to exploding, I fear.

She grabs my face in her hands and pulls me into a heated kiss. It's quite nice when she initiates these sorts of things. But I don't think we've ever shared a kiss quite like this one. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her on top of me. I run my tongue along her bottom lip and she admits me entry into her mouth. I find her tongue with my own, and at the same time I run my hand along her thigh, relishing the feel of smooth soft skin beneath her silken nightgown.

She breaks the kiss all too soon and raises her upper body up to look at my face. She is breathing heavily, as am I, and I am delighted to see her exposed breasts through the gap in her low neckline. I silently thank gravity. I reluctantly tear my eyes away from her glorious bosom and look her in the eyes. They are shining.

"Kartik, you silly boy! You already know what I want."

"I do?"

She nods emphatically. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Did I just hear her correctly?

"Gemma, I have no money! I could never support you the way you deserve."

She laughs softly, shaking her head. "I could marry the wealthiest man and he would never give me what I really need. I would just be an adornment to him, something to look at and appreciate for its surface. I'd be like a mantel clock; as long as I'm working properly he is happy, but he would never care to learn how I work."

I catch on to her. "But I would like to know how you tick, and take great care to make sure you keep working properly?"

She gives me a quick kiss. "Exactly!"

"And what of your family? They would never approve of us."

She rolls off of me to the side. "Grandmama and Tom wouldn't at first, but Father has always been fond of you. I am certain he would convince them otherwise."

"Your father likes me?"

She looks at me. "Yes. Why else would he agree to hire you again after you disappeared?"

I sigh. "So he is fond of me as a coachman, not a potential son-in-law."

"That's not true."

"Are you implying I am not a good coachman then?" I ask, half in jest, half in earnest.

"Kartik, don't be difficult." Gemma finds my hand under the sheets and brings it near her face. "Anyway, my father wants me to be happy." She says, playing with my hand as if it is the most fascinating toy. "I'm sure he would understand our relationship."

She strokes my long fingers in an almost provocative manner. I feel heat stirring within me, but I ignore it, as I am still distracted.

"So what should we do about this then?"

She laces her fingers through mine, our skin a stark contrast against each other. "I will talk to my father," she gives my hand a small squeeze. "And then we shall see what happens."

"And until then…?"

She turns to me with a smile. "Until then, we must have hope." She brings my fingertips to her lips, trailing wet kisses over them. She suddenly gives my hand a small tug, pulling my arm over her body. I crawl on top of her, hovering over her on my forearms and knees, like a cat trapping its prey. The space between us nearly crackles with our magnetism, for we are always drawn to each other, regardless of what stands in our way.

This time, however, there is nothing but air. "I will always have hope, Gem, as long as I have you." I whisper into her ear as I slowly straighten my legs out and lower myself carefully onto her. She wraps her arms around my neck to receive me.

"Kartik?"

"Mmhmm?" My face is pressed into her neck.

She works her fingers into my damp hair. "Would you like to spend the night?"

I laugh softly into her neck. She gasps at the vibration.

"I would love to, Gemma."

If anyone is bored - look up "Kartik" on Wikipedia. Apparently he was a god of war that rode a peacock around the world. Hmm. Can't imagine our Kartik doing that!

Reviews make me work faster!

Next one is in Gemma's POV.

Until then,  
LunaEquus


	2. Astronomy

**Disclaimer: Libba Libba Bray Bray Yay!**

**(edited)**

"So explain to me why you needed to speak to me so urgently, Kartik." I sigh as I say this, for I've had a long day of shopping and really just want to retire to my bed.

He feigns a hurt expression. "Do I need a reason to want to see your shining face?"

He's teasing me. "Yes," I say.

"Well then," he gives me a haughty look. "I suppose I do have a reason."

Of course he isn't going to tell me straight out; that would be far too easy. "Please, Kartik," I say, rubbing my temples. "I am in no mood for games tonight. My head and feet ache, and I just want to go to bed."

He relents with a pout. "Fine then, I will make my case quick. I would like for you to come with me somewhere tomorrow night."

"Why did you need to tell me that tonight? You could have waited until morning."

He scratches the back of his head nervously. "Well, because you will need to make certain arrangements."

"Oh? I thought it was _you _that wished to take me somewhere. Why should _I _make the arrangements?" I am losing my patience fast.

He lowers his voice to a whisper, so that I must lean in to hear him. "Because you will need to somehow convince your family that you are staying at Miss Worthington's for the night, while you are in fact spending the night with me."

Has he completely lost his mind? I stare at him in disbelief. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other uneasily. I have so many questions that I don't know which to ask first. The silence seems to worry him. A sudden thought seems to cross his mind.

"Oh! It is not what you think, Gemma. I am not out for your maidenhood."

"I see."

He frowns. "I'm not. I wouldn't do something like that."

"Then why do you need me to spend the night with you somewhere? In fact, you haven't even told me where you plan on taking me."

He shakes his head slightly. "Gemma, I cannot tell you where or why. Just trust me."

"Why should I?" Now I am playing with him. I do trust him; I also like to see him squirm sometimes. It gives me an odd sense of satisfaction, like I am getting him back for all the times he has threatened me in the past.

Kartik smiles sweetly. "It's a surprise, an early birthday present. For my favorite girl."

Oh, how he can make melt! I can feel myself smiling along with him, though I am sure he threw in that last part to get his way. "You remembered my birthday."

"Of course I did. It is also the day we met." His eyes widen suddenly, as if he just realized the weight of what he said. The day we met. The day my mother, and his brother, died. The day my life changed forever. That awful day; one year ago, my sixteenth birthday.

"Gemma, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to - , I – uh -,"

I cut him off. "There is no need to be sorry. You are right. We met on my birthday. I thought you were going to steal my virtue, you know."

He looks appalled. "Do I look like the type that would?"

"No. I was not in the right state of mind. Forgive me for my false accusations."

"You are quite forgiven. You remember how you also kicked me in a very delicate area?"

I smile at the memory. "Of course. It was most effective, was it not?"

"For you maybe. I shall be lucky if I can ever reproduce." He gives me a wicked grin.

"Well, I won't apologize for that. Perhaps my foot will have done us all a favor in the future."

"That's not very nice, Gemma. I am going out of my way to plan a surprise for you, and this is the thanks I get."

I tutt at him. "Going out of your way? You are making me secure the arrangements."

Kartik puts his arm around me. I can smell his signature scent, smoke and cinnamon, and it makes me want to melt into him. Into his warmth – just melt. I look up at him; the shadows playing on his collarbones and neck fascinate me, making me want to trace kisses over every taut line. I want to eat him up in all his deliciousness.

"Gemma."

"Kartik."

"Please do this for me. You will not regret it."

He looks so sincere. I cannot help but try to please him. "I will do my best, Kartik."

He looks overjoyed. "Excellent, Gem! I promise you, this will all be worth it."

"I shall visit you tomorrow afternoon with an answer."

"Right then," he places a quick kiss on my cheek. "Have a good night, Gemma."

I cannot resist kissing his neck, right underneath his jaw, a most delightful place. He seems surprised. "Good night, Kartik." I say with a wink. Let him think of me tonight in his bed. Let him wake from fitful dreams, sweating and longing for me. As I return to my house, the look in his eyes tells me he just might.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, I am tripping over the uneven ground between Grandmama's house and the stable. By some twist of fate, Grandmama gave me permission to spend the night at Felicity's, who agreed to cover for me. It was not easy to sway either of them, though. I managed to convince my grandmother that I was on the brink of womanhood and only had a few more days of carefree girlish fun. It is so ironic, for I haven't been carefree for years, it seems.

Felicity was another story. She didn't want me to spend the night in the company of Kartik, though I told her that it was purely business and not fun at all. She finally gave in when I promised to take her to the realms whenever she wanted, and when I gave her my favorite hair comb.

When I finally reach the stable, I see Kartik sitting in front of Ginger's stall eating an apple and reading the newspaper. Ginger stretches her neck to him, nudging his shoulder for the apple. Without looking up from his paper, Kartik holds the apple to Ginger's muzzle; she bites into the fruit with a loud wet crack. To my great horror, Kartik then takes another bite of the apple.

"Kartik, that is vile!"

He looks up in surprise. "I didn't see you come in." He stands, brushing off his pants as he does so.

"Of all the completely revolting things to do, Kartik! Who knows what else she has been eating!"

"Ginger eats oats and grain and hay. Sometimes a bran mash too." He grins at me.

"You are disgusting."

He holds the apple out to me. "Would you like a bite?" he asks innocently.

"Ah, the fruit of temptation," I say bitterly. "I regret to say that I decline – I am a Christian after all."

He laughs and gives the rest of the apple to Ginger, who receives it with a gentle nicker. "So I hope you stand before me with good news, Miss Gemma."

"Do you do that often?"

He looks puzzled. "Do what?"

"Share your food with the horses."

He turns to pet Ginger's white blaze; she is nudging his pockets, looking for more treats. "Ginger is a good horse; I give her a lot of treats."

I look to the stall next to Ginger's. Its occupant is a flashy looking black gelding, Father's favorite hunter. "What about Rajah?" I ask.

Kartik looks at Rajah, who is currently dozing in the far corner. "Not as much as Ginger. Rajah hasn't been getting much exercise lately, and he's highbred, so too many treats make him pretty crazy," he pauses to rub Ginger's ears. "Besides, Ginger is my favorite."

"I see. She is quite cute, isn't she?"

"Yes. Her coat reminds me of your hair color." He smiles at the blush creeping across my features. "So, back to business. Are we game for tonight?"

"Yes. All is in order."

"Really?"

"Yes. You will take me to Miss Worthington's house after tea. Everything after that is up to you."

"This is wonderful Gemma! I knew I could count on you." He nudges my arm playfully. I quite like this side of him.

"Will I need anything for tonight?"

"Nothing you wouldn't already bring to Miss Worthington's."

Seems simple enough. "Alright, so what will happen when I am there?"

"I have already asked your father for the night off. I will come for you around 11 o'clock tonight," he says a bit smugly.

"How will I know when you've arrived?"

"I shall throw rocks at the window, of course."

I laugh at the memory of him throwing rocks to interrupt a moment between Simon Middleton and myself. "Okay then, Kartik. I shall see you later. I better not catch you sharing anymore apples with Ginger, though. I might get jealous."

Kartik breaks out into a lovely smile. "But how can you make me choose between my two favorite redheads?"

"Well, think of who smells better."

He pretends to hesitate. "Define 'better'."

"Kartik!"

"I'm just joking, Gem. Though you have to admit, she does have quite nice legs, doesn't she?"

* * *

I can see Felicity glaring at me through her vanity mirror. I sit, trying my hair in different ways. "Fee, do you think I have a swanlike neck?" I ask, pulling my hair up.

"You're just asking because of _him, _aren't you?" She spits from her bed.

I sigh and let my hair drop back down my shoulders. It has gotten pretty long; it now reaches a few inches below my shoulder blades. "There is nothing going on between myself and Kartik, Felicity. You know that."

"Liar."

"What makes you think otherwise?" I study my reflection closely. Has my hair gotten darker lately? Yes, I do believe it has. I can see my eyebrows quite clearly now. That's always a good thing.

"What makes me think otherwise, besides the fact that you are to spend the night with him, is that for the past two hours, you haven't moved from that mirror. You want to look nice for him!"

"Don't be silly. He's just a friend."

"Does my hair look better up or down? Do I have a cute nose? _Do I have a swanlike neck?_" Felicity mocks me cruelly.

"Oh, as if you don't do the same in your mirror!"

Her face reddens and I turn back to the mirror satisfied. I consider the dress I am wearing. It is not too formal, decent for calling a friend. Pale green with cap sleeves and pink embroidery, it is a gift from my grandmother. No bustles or crinolines, thank God! It's a good summer dress, and I feel quite lovely in it. I hope Kartik will think the same. I wonder if I shall take the dress off in his presence. Perhaps he will take it off for me? I certainly cannot sleep in it!

A giddy feeling comes over me and I check the clock for what seems like the thousandth time. 10:45 pm. I still have time until his arrival.

"No, your _consort_ is not here yet." Felicity grumbles. She is already in her nightgown. A sudden feeling of guilt washes over me as I realize I am using her.

"Fee, I am so sorry for this. I know you must think I'm terrible, and it's true. I am a terrible person and I do not deserve your kindness." Might as well suck up to her because she is my only witness in case things go wrong.

A hint of a smile plays around her lips. "I am being awfully kind, aren't I?"

A tap at the window distracts me. He's here! "Um, yes. Awfully kind! I must be going now." I grab my carpetbag from the floor and make for the door.

"Gemma," Felicity says, sounding concerned. "Be careful, okay?"

"I will," I say with a smile. "And Fee, thank you for this."

She nods and I disappear through the door. The house is large and dark; I creep down the stairs as quietly as I can, but when I reach the front door I nearly run out to Kartik. I am ecstatic to see him and would very much like to jump into his arms, but I am certain that Felicity is watching us.

"Good evening, Gemma." Kartik whispers. He leads me to the side of the house, thankfully out of Felicity's sight. I look up at him expectantly. He smiles and beckons to my left where Rajah stands, tied to a post.

"Did you steal my father's horse for tonight?"

He chuckles softly. "Of course not, he needed exercise," he whispers near my ear.

"Of course," I say, tilting my face up to his with the intentions of a kiss.

He doesn't notice. Instead, he pulls me to Rajah excitedly. "Oh!" I exclaim as he lifts me onto the horse with no difficulty at all. Rajah dances beneath my weight and fear strikes me. I may be sitting sidesaddle, but there is no tack beneath me.

Kartik jumps up behind me, settling both the animal and myself with soft cooing sounds. I relax enough to realize the compromising situation I am in, positioned between his legs. Those long powerful legs, one on each side of me. His hands grab the reins in front of me, and suddenly I feel trapped. I fight a blush as he makes the horse walk on. His face is so close to mine. Oh just kiss me, you horrible tease!

"Where are we going?" I whisper.

He doesn't look me in the eye. "It's a surprise."

His breath caresses my collarbones and goose bumps erupt up my arms.

"Are you cold, Gemma?"

It is actually quite warm. "No."

I don't know what to do with my hands. They seem so inconvenient at the moment. I do not wish to seem fidgety, lest he thinks me uncomfortable, but I do not want to keep them folded in my lap either. I sigh, frustrated for no reason at all. I turn to face the front, letting my right leg rest across Rajah's withers.

I immediately regret my decision to move, for I am now pressed up completely against Kartik. I can feel him tense up and I silently curse myself. _Stupid, stupid, STUPID! _Time for a little small talk to fix the situation.

"Lovely weather, isn't it?"

"Quite lovely, yes." His voice sounds slightly strangled.

I sigh miserably and stare at his hands in front of me.

"What's the matter, Gem? You sound upset."

"Am I a bother?"

"No."

"Kartik?"

"Yes?"

"Why are things between us so awkward sometimes?"

"I don't know."

I lean into him so I can feel his heartbeat in between my shoulder blades. As inappropriate as it is, it comforts me. I begin to relax again.

"Gemma?"

I turn my head around to him. My heart erupts into a fury. Will he kiss me now? Confess his love for me?

"We're here."

"Huh?" I look around me. It's a field. Completely open save for the woods in which we emerged. It's quite lovely, nice and green, lit up by the full moon's light. "Where are we?"

Kartik dismounts with a smile. He stands to help me down as well. I slide off the horse and into his arms with ease. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. "Look up," he whispers.

I do, and am immediately awestruck. It's absolutely stunning! Millions of stars dot the deep blue sky. I have never seen such a sky before!

"Happy birthday, Gemma."

I reluctantly tear my eyes from the sky to look at Kartik. He smiles at me expectantly, as if waiting for my opinion. I am speechless, however. I look at him, hoping he understands my gratitude. I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening our embrace. His lips gently press against my forehead, then my cheek, and finally…

I lift my head and he finds my lips with his own. Finally! As many times as we've kissed, every time feels like the first. My heart pounds and my legs feel weak as I admit him entry to my mouth. My insides feel hollow, wishing for more than his tongue to be inside of me.

Oh yes, it will be him. The question is…when?

He breaks the kiss with a smile. "What do you think?"

I laugh. "It's fantastic! How do you know of this place?"

He turns to Rajah, who stands impatiently. Kartik unbridles the horse and gives him a small smack on the flank. Rajah takes off trotting into the field.

I turn to Kartik in shock. "What if he runs away?"

"He won't. Sometimes I bring him here for a good gallop. He'll just enjoy himself," Kartik snakes his arm around my waist. "And so will we."

A giggle escapes my lips. I'm fascinated by how Kartik manages to turn me into such a girly-girl sometimes. Not that I mind. He makes me feel like the woman I've always wanted to be – delicate, clever, and lovely.

With his rucksack hoisted over his shoulder and my carpetbag in his other hand, Kartik starts walking into the field.

"Wait!" I yell, running a bit to keep up with his long strides.

He glances at me bemusedly. "No need to be so frantic, Gemma."

"I didn't want to be left alone."

"I wasn't very far, and you caught up."

"Not very easily – it's difficult to do anything in this blasted corset."

Kartik slows his pace. "So why do you wear it then?"

I laugh bitterly. "Why? Because I have to. I have no choice in whether or not I want to suffer all day. It's more important to be _fashionable_, to have a wasp-thin waist, than to be _healthy. _If I had a choice, I would not wear it, _believe me._"

"It's not attractive," Kartik says after a few moments' silence.

I fear I have said too much. Is that what he finds unattractive? "What isn't?" I ask, the blood rushing back to my face.

"The whole wasp-thin waist fad. Most men don't find it particularly attractive. I suppose they only say they do. I personally prefer a woman's natural curves," he hesitates. "I am sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

I wave away his apology. I want to know more about his preferences. "And what else do men find attractive in a woman?" I hope his answers are more to my liking than my brother's.

Kartik eyes me cautiously. "Why do you want to know?"

"So I know what sorts of standards I am up against," I say, trying to not sound desperate.

"Well," he says, throwing his rucksack on the ground. "I cannot speak for everybody, but I should think that if a man hasn't been so corrupted with money and fashion, then his opinions must be quite similar to my own." He sits down in the grass.

"That wasn't an answer, Kartik," I say, looking down at him.

He doesn't look at me. "The ideal woman is smart, independent, and strong. She is true to herself and follows her heart. She isn't swayed by society. She stands up for herself and doesn't let others down when they count on her."

"Well then," I say as I kneel across from him. "I have a lot to work on, don't I?"

He looks at me strangely. "Not at all," he whispers.

"What do you mean?"

"Gem, I was describing _you._"

I let my eyes drift up to the sky. I am suddenly filled with the urge to cry. Kartik was describing me as his ideal woman. Kartik – the perfect man – wants me. I want him. I cannot have him. Can I? Society says no. And yet, I don't care. Right now, it just doesn't matter. All that matters is that I am with the man I love. I love him. I love Kartik.

"I love you," I whisper as I turn to him.

He takes my hand into his and gently presses his forehead to mine. A smile tugs at his lips. "And I love you."

This is too much for me. I cannot possibly hold in everything I am feeling. Everything I have been feeling, it's all too much; I feel close to bursting.

I jump up to my feet. "Do you like my new dress?" I ask, twirling around for effect.

Kartik is puzzled. "Um, yes, it's lovely on you."

I laugh. "It's even lovelier when I am not wearing it!" I vaguely realize the weight of what I have just said. Kartik's face is a mixture of confusion, shock, and interest. I have the sudden urge to test my power over him.

"So then," I whisper in what I hope is a coquettish way. "Will you help me out of it?"

It takes a few moments for Kartik to find his words. "Gemma, I don't think I should…"

"Don't be silly, Kartik. I can't sleep in it, now can I? My grandmother will surely notice the damage. And the grass stains."

Kartik relents and steps behind me. He pauses, seemingly unsure of what to do. I pull my hair to the side, revealing the top few mother-of-pearl buttons. His normally deft fingers are shaky as he fumbles through the first few buttons.

"You haven't had much practice at this, have you?"

He laughs weakly. "Should I have?" he finishes undoing my buttons. "There, you're free."

Turning around, I carefully step out of my dress, revealing my undergarments and corset. I should be ashamed of my bold behavior right now. Oddly enough, I find I'm not. The sensory overload I felt a few minutes before has left me feeling quite calm.

I run my hand over the curve of my waist constructed by my corset. Kartik's eyes follow my hand; the desire on his face becoming more pronounced. I find I want to please him.

"Am I free, Kartik?" my hands tug at the laces of my corset, teasing him rather than trying to undo them.

Kartik cocks his head to the side. "Would you like to be?"

"Yes."

He circles me, slowly trailing his fingers over my shoulder, my collarbones, my other shoulder, my back. He stands behind me, ready to untie me, to change me forever. Everything I've wanted and feared is at stake. I've no more will to fight what is meant to be. No. This isn't fate or destiny, this is my choice. I have chosen Kartik.

Kartik places his lips on my neck. Tremors run through my body, somehow beginning and ending between my thighs. He pulls slowly at the laces, teasing me. His mouth finds mine, and I willingly submit to a kiss that leaves my body aching for him.

He loosens the corset so that it falls over my hips to the ground. Relief comes as a sigh between us. My hand moves to the back of his head, tangling into silky curls, begging him for more.

His hands are another story. His right hand rests at my hip. His left, when it comes, is a surprise. He cups my breast, tentatively at first, as if asking for permission. I've no means to give consent verbally, so I nod my head, hoping he understands. It is like a stranger has taken over my body, for I have never acted in such a way before. Perhaps it is because we are alone, or because I'm tired of keeping the distance between us when I want him so much.

I cannot say how long we lasted like this, or when we both fell to our knees, or when the lace neckline of my chemise was torn and Kartik's mouth explored my chest, but I can say that I have never felt so happy in my life.

Lying back in the lush grass, the starry sky covers us like a blanket. We lay for awhile, fingers laced, neither of us saying anything. My chemise is beyond repair.

Kartik reaches over to smooth down the ripped edges of cotton and lace. "I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"It's alright."

He pulls me into him and I rest my head in the hollow of his neck.

"Polaris," he says suddenly, pointing up.

"Come again?"

"Do you see that star there?"

There are thousands. "Which one?"

He leans his head near mine. "The bright one there," he glances at me. "Do you see it?"

I do now. "Yes."

"It's Polaris, the north star."

"It's lovely."

"Yes. No matter where the other stars travel to in the sky, Polaris always stays there, day and night."

I lift my head to look at him. He looks different than any other time I have seen him. He looks…serene.

Kartik lazily combs his fingers into my hair. It's a gentle gesture, but still quite titillating.

"Now look there, to the lower right, that's Andromeda. It's the closest galaxy to us."

"How close is it?"

"It's over two million light years away."

I stare at him and he breaks out into a laugh. "Not an ideal spot for a holiday, is it, Gemma?"

I sit up. "I wonder what it's like there."

"Perhaps the same as here?"

"Perhaps," I look down at him. "Kartik? When you look up at the sky, do you ever feel…"

"Feel what?"

"Small. Insignificant. Like our everyday lives don't matter."

"It matters to us."

"Yes, but don't you feel as if …society doesn't matter. Rules, other people… Like right now, only we are important."

"I feel that way every day."

I crawl on top of him. "Kartik," I say, leaning my face in close. "I want to be with you."

Beneath my hands, I feel his heartbeat quicken. "Um, Gemma?"

"Yes."

"You are with me," he says uncertainly.

"I want to give myself to you." I close my eyes and place light kisses over his temple and cheek. His body stiffens slightly, but he relaxes when my mouth finds his. He turns me on to my back, taking control of our kiss. Pressing my tongue against the seam of his lips, I feel doubts start creeping into my head. I feel like I'm ready, at least, I want to be. No one would have to know. Or could they tell otherwise? Will I become pregnant? My body wants it, Kartik wants it. I truly want it too. But I'm nervous.

As if reading my thoughts, Kartik breaks the kiss. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he whispers into my hair.

"Yes," I hesitate. "Don't you?"

Kartik laughs. "You've no idea, Gemma. I want you more than you know."

I smile, confused. "Then…shouldn't we?"

Kartik sits up, helping me to as well. "Gemma," he says, fixing my chemise so it covers me up. "I love you. I will wait for you. You don't need to give anything up now. I can tell you're not quite ready," he smiles sweetly. "Besides, I said I wasn't out for your maidenhood, didn't I?"

Is this the same boy I met nearly a year ago? The one that stalked me and threatened me? It's so hard to believe that it has only been one year.

"We have something special, don't we?" I ask, lying back down on the grass.

"We sure do, Gem." Kartik places his head next to mine and holds his hand out to me. I take it, happy that for once, no one expects anything from me. I know that I have not been settled for, that someone longs for me, stays chaste just for me. Wants only me.

I'm happier than I have been in a while. The impending doom of my debutante ball seems like nothing to me anymore because I have Kartik. And Kartik always makes me feel the way I want to.

**Yay! Happy Gemma! Will it last? **

**Reviews make my writing better! hint, hint  
**

**Grace, charm, and beauty,  
LunaEquus**


	3. Realms

**Libba Bray's the man, er - woman!**

**(edited) **

**Kartik's POV  
**

The sun rises early on the morning of June 12th, 1896. Gemma is to go riding in Hyde Park with the other young ladies of her age. No doubt the dreaded Simon Middleton will be there as well. Jealousy seeps through my every vein, making me anxious and causing me to curry Ginger with a little too much vigor. The mare tosses her head and paws at the ground trying to convey her discomfort.

"Sorry girl," I say, easing my brushing. I see her ear flick back at me. At least someone listens to me. Gemma's family sees right through me, as if I'm not even there. It hurts to know that her family will never accept me as one of their own.

"How's Rajah coming along, Willie?" I call into the next stall.

The boy's head pops over the low wall in between the horses. "He won't pick up his feet, Mr. Kartik."

I brush the hair out of my face with the back of my hand. "Pinch his fetlock."

"Right." His head disappears again.

I resume brushing Ginger. Gemma's brother is to accompany Gemma riding, as a chaperone. He is also friends with Simon Middleton. They are just one year older than me.

Willie's head is back. "He won't lift 'em. It's hopeless."

No. Nothing's hopeless. Gemma's face flashes before my eyes. She grows lovelier by the day. She is my hope.

I sigh and drop the brush into the shavings. Willie hands me the hoof pick as I enter the stall. Rajah stands with his head held up defiantly. For a moment I stand still as we size each other up. Disinterested, he drops his head to pull a bite of hay from the pile on the ground.

He picks up his feet easily for me, and Willie stares as I return to Ginger's stall.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

Willie shakes his head. "I don't know. It just seems like the horses _like _you."

I shrug. "They respect me."

"I wish they'd respect me too."

"So pay more attention to them." I run a stable cloth over Ginger's body, making her dapples shine gold beneath her copper coat. I think of Gemma again, with the same molten metal shining hair.

"Pretty girl," I whisper, unsure of who I am actually referring to – Gemma or Ginger.

I take great care lifting the sidesaddle onto Ginger's back and fastening the girth strap. Her muscles quiver as I tighten it, but she does not try to snap at me. Rajah is a different story, and a struggle ensues in the other stall.

I bridle Ginger and lead her into the aisle to give her one last polishing. I rub at the brass buckles of the bridle and sweep dust from the saddle. Satisfied, I tie her to the post just outside the barn where the sunlight gleams on her coat.

I hear Rajah kick the wall. "Oi!" Willie yells.

I sigh and return to his stall. "What's the matter?"

"The evil beast stomped on my foot!"

I glance at Rajah, who has his ears flat against his head. "Go sweep the aisle. I'll finish with him."

"Yes, Mr. Kartik."

As I approach the black horse, he turns his rear to me. Frustrated, I turn my back to him as well. After a few minutes, I feel the horse nudging my back. I turn around slowly and pat his neck. That's Willie's problem with the horses; he doesn't understand herd behavior, doesn't listen to them.

I work quickly, cleaning spots that were missed and fixing the tack. By the time I lead him from the barn, Gemma and her brother are already outside.

"There he is," Tom says impatiently, taking the reins from my hands. "Hurry up and mount, Gemma. I don't want to keep Simon waiting."

"Honestly Tom, it's your fault we are late in the first place," Gemma chides as she gives Ginger a friendly pat. She turns to me. "He couldn't decide on which stock pin looked more expensive."

I smile and help her mount the horse. Gemma looks beautiful in her hunter green riding outfit. It nicely sets off both her hair and Ginger's. Together they look picture perfect.

Our hands meet for a moment when I hand Gemma her riding whip. She gazes at me briefly, but looks away as Tom rides up next to her.

"Well let's get going then."

Together they set off. Gemma looks back at me one last time, and I cannot help but see the longing in her eyes.

As there are no horses to care for, Willie and I both have the morning off. For all I know, I may have the day off, provided none of the Doyles have anywhere to go. I decide the best course of action is to take a nap.

I return to my room after the stable is swept and the brushes put away. Ignoring the stream of sunlight that falls across the pillows, I fall onto my bed and wait for sleep to claim me.

_The sunlit window turns into the bright outline of a door. A pale hand reaches for the golden doorknob and opens the door. My eyes are presented with the most beautiful scene of a garden. Green grass, red sunset. Gemma. Green eyes, red hair. The realms. This must be where I am. I'm in the realms with Gemma. Only, she is the realms. _

'_Come, Kartik!' she takes my hand. The river is the blue of her dress. We ride a ship down that river. A gorgon's head eyes me curiously. We are golden. Gemma's hair is golden. What is this magic? It's Gemma…_

_There are colossal women. Their soft curves emerge from the rough rock. 'What is it?' I hear myself ask. _

'_It is our destiny.'_

_Colored incense hangs in the air. I feel warm and relaxed. Gemma lies before me on silk pillows, partially obscured by delicate curtains. I'm melting into her, into a whirlwind of incense and magic. _

'_You're always a part of me.'_

_Things are falling backwards. The rock women become the gorgon. I see gold, I see blue, red, green. Gemma and the garden. The door of light…_

Sunlight has moved across the bed to shine in my face. I shield my eyes and sit up, trying to grasp onto my dream. It is impossible; all I can gather are a bunch of colors jumbled together, and Gemma. Of course there was Gemma. My Gemma.

Surely she must be back by now. I make my way to the stable, listening to the birds chirping cheerfully, happy to have the warm sun on their feathers. Sure enough, the horses are back in their stalls, un-tacked and groomed, happily munching on hay.

I sink onto a bale of hay and listen to the quiet sounds of the horses eating. I start planning the rest of my day. I have to clean the mud from the bottom of the carriage, but that is where my obligations end. I suppose I could always take Rajah out for a ride, for I need some exercise as well. I rack my brain for any mentions of social calls that would prevent me from doing as I wish, but I can't seem to find any.

"Knock, knock."

The sudden voice startles me. I look up to see Gemma at the doorway with a tea tray in her hands. She sets the tray on a tack box with a smile. "Hello," she says cheerily.

"Hello."

"I trust you are doing well?" she asks.

"Extremely well, thank you," I reply.

"How many sugars would you like?"

"Three please."

"Too much sugar is bad for your teeth. Cream?"

"No thank you."

"Here you are then." She hands me a cup of tea.

"Thank you." I wait until she fixes a cup for herself and sits down on another stool before I take a sip. It's possibly the best cup of tea I have ever tasted, but that might just be because Gemma made it.

"Have you spoken to your father?" I ask.

"Yes I have."

"What did you say?"

Gemma's mouth curves into a slight smile. "I simply explained that I enjoyed your company very much and asked if he would kindly allow me to spend more time with you."

"And he gave his consent?!"

"Perhaps."

I frown at her untroubled face. "Does he know our intentions?"

She stirs her tea, the spoon gently clinking with the china. "I am not sure. But he may allow you to court me if you ask him."

"Gemma, I doubt he'd approve of his coachman courting his daughter."

She frowns slightly. "Unlike my grandmother and brother, my father actually cares for my happiness. I am not being pressured into marrying a rich man for the financial sake of our family."

"Yes, but there are more issues than money that widens the gap between us." There it is, the sad truth. You can make a poor man rich, but you cannot change skin color.

Gemma's eyes meet mine. She gives me a look that makes me feel as if she can read my thoughts. Sometimes, I think she can.

"You are a gentleman," she says carefully. "Father loves India."

I shake my head slowly. I don't know what has turned Gemma into such an optimist. As much as I want to spend the rest of my life with her, even I know that the chances of that happening are slim.

"Kartik," she says softly. "I know my father. Trust me."

"Then I shall ask him."

Gemma smiles at her teacup. There is something about the way the sun hits her hair that seems familiar. Then I remember the dream.

"I had an odd dream today," I say, striking up a different conversation.

Gemma's face is all attention. "Did you? What was it about?"

"Well, that's the thing. I don't quite remember it. If I try to recall it, I feel as though I am about to grasp something, but then I can't."

"Do you remember any of it?"

"You were in it. And there were colors. Vivid colors."

"What was so odd about it then?"

I shrug. "I think I was in the realms." I glance at her to see her reaction.

Her face is a jumble of emotions, confusion being the most prominent. "The realms. Well, it would make sense."

"What do you mean?"

She sets down her tea. "Sometimes people visit the realms in their dreams."

"Oh."

She stares at me, her green eyes penetrating. "Is that all?" She asks.

"No. I was wondering…" Should I ask her? "I was just thinking…since I am no longer Rakshana, maybe…you could take me into the realms?"

Her face softens. "I don't know if it will work, Kartik, and I don't know what will happen if it doesn't. But…we can try."

"Can we?"

She nods.

"When?"

"How about now?" She stands up, straightening her skirt.

I stand too. "What do we need to do?"

Gemma looks around. "We need a place where we cannot be seen."

My eyes land on the carriage. "Will the carriage do?"

"Perfect."

I help her into the carriage and sit across from her. "Now what?" I ask, my heart thudding madly in my chest.

"Take my hands," she says. "And picture a door of light."

My stomach twists with the sense of déjà vu. Her hands are warm and soft in mine. I close my eyes and envision the door from my dream.

"Open your eyes," Gemma whispers.

I open my eyes and gasp. There is a door glowing before us, the crescent eye emblazoned on it like a window. Gemma opens the door, her skin oddly white.

The scene that unfolds before my eyes nearly brings me to my knees. Visions of my strange dream dance in my head and I struggle to keep my grasp on reality. That is, if any of this is real to begin with. The sight is overwhelming, and my eyes ache as if I had been in the dark for years and this is the first time I've seen light since.

Gemma squeezes my hand gently, bringing me back to my senses. "It worked!" she exclaims triumphantly. "The realms accept you, Kartik."

I open my eyes again cautiously. The scene no longer stings them so much. I take in the emerald grass, the golden red sunset, the crystal blue river. Gemma sits amongst bright purple flowers. She picks one and twirls it between her fingers.

"Watch this," she closes her hands around the bloom. I kneel next to her for a closer look, the scent of the flowers strong in the air. She opens her hands and a tiny frog jumps from them with a croak. Each time it lands, more flowers sprout from the ground beneath it.

"Incredible," I say breathily. "You did that?"

She smiles proudly. "Yes. Now you try."

"How do I?"

"Wish for something and concentrate."

I stand up and look around. What do I want to do? I spy a tree, looking rather too ordinary for such a place. I run my fingers over the bark, creating smooth frescoes of characters from _The Odyssey._

Gemma applauds from her spot in the flowers. "You did it!"

I step back to admire my work. The tree trunk now has the look of an elaborate column. "I did, didn't I?"

"I think it's missing something, though."

I cock my head to the side. "You're right." I place my palm over a ship. Immediately, color spreads from under my hand, painting the fresco. "That's better, I think."

A light rain of petals falls from the sky. Gemma walks up to me, the glorious sunset framing her figure. Before I can register what is happening, my mouth suddenly joins with hers, in a kiss that tastes of paradise.

I feel something I cannot fully comprehend, a static-y sort of feeling, running from her through me. It is possibly the most delicious feeling I have ever felt, a light tingling in every part of my body. It feels as if I am drowning in this feeling, like I am drowning into her. Though my eyes are closed, I see the realms clearly, see her clearly. Red, green, blue, gold. I feel her heartbeat within me, resounding with my own. And then I realize that it is her magic in me.

"You bound the magic to yourself," I murmur.

"Yes."

"I felt it, just then."

"What did you feel?"

"The magic, you – the realms, flowing through me."

"Hm. Interesting."

"Do you know what it means?"

Gemma frowns slightly. "No, I don't. But I know of someone we can ask."

"Who?"

She smiles. "That's for another day."

She looks so achingly lovely. She looks so…happy.

I lightly stroke her pale cheek. "You're beautiful, Gem."

She blushes and lowers her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers.

I take her hand in mine. "Dance with me."

This time there is no one to catch us. We are free to do whatever we wish. The notion is thrilling, to say the least.

"My pleasure," she says.

I pull her in close, and this time she does not break away.

"Do you like it here?" She asks, her hair fluttering softly around her face.

"I love it here," I say, grinning broadly. "It's like a dream."

"Oh! Do you remember your dream now?"

"Bits and pieces. I remember things as I see them here."

"So you were in the realms then?"

"Yes. Gemma? Where does the river lead?"

She glances at the river. "It depends on where you want to go. Did you see where you went?"

I struggle to grasp the image of my surroundings on the river. It lies just beyond the edges of my memory, taunting me to remember. I finally see something.

"There were giant stone women…and a lot of incense."

Gemma furrows her brow in confusion. "That would be the Cave of Sighs. I don't know why you'd see that…" Her green eyes widen. "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

She blushes madly. "It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

Whatever could she be so flustered about? I thought of something she said to me before Christmas.

"Gemma, didn't you tell me that the Order and the Rakshana were once lovers?"

"Yes, I did."

"Do you know why?"

She sighs. "No, I don't."

"I see."

Gemma breaks away. "I suppose we could go find out after all if you'd like."

"Another day," I say softly. "Let's just spend some time together."

She beams at me. "I'd like that." Her eyes drift back to the river, over the gentle grassy slope that dips beneath the jewel bright water.

Then she is off running towards it, pulling me along with her.

"Wait, Gemma!" Her sudden movement forces me off balance, and I trip into her. We fall to the plush grass rolling over each other like a barrel towards the river. Thankfully, the slope levels before the water's edge and we slide to a stop.

She bursts out laughing, and I can't help but to join in as well. I laugh until my sides ache and my eyes feel wet from tears. The sky spins with my dizziness.

"You've grass in your hair, Kartik," Gemma says giggling. Her eyes are bright from tears of mirth.

"So do you!" This has us laughing again. She shakes her head wildly, sending blades of grass flying, turning into shimmery flecks as they do so.

"Kartik," she says with a mischievous look on her face. "Let's go swimming."

There's no one to tell us otherwise, no one to see us act inappropriately. What other chance will we ever have? The water looks so very inviting.

"Let's do it," I say with a wink.

She unlaces her boots and pulls off her silken stockings quickly. I look away, not just for modesty's sake, but because I don't want my mind to run wild. I kick off my shoes with haste and strip down to my drawers. I wonder if this is such a good idea, the two of us so scantily clothed, alone.

Ever since the night I took her to see the stars, we have been extra careful around each other. It's difficult, knowing what happened and _almost _happened, and not being able to experience it again. I respect Gemma, though, and her decisions as well. It's just the notion that she is longs for me as well that makes me crazy. We both know that our self control alone is what keeps us from acting on our impulses.

No one would know if we did. Potential pregnancy is what holds her back. Shaming her family, being caught. She'd be ruined if we did. My pretty Gemma, ruined. I wouldn't submit her to that for only a few hours of pleasure.

Gemma skips before me in only a chemise and bloomers. "Catch me if you can!" she taunts before running away.

I leap after her, catching her in just a few strides. We laugh, unrestrained, giddy as children. I pick her up around her waist; she kicks, squealing gleefully.

"Put me down Kartik!"

"As you'd like, m'dear."

I toss her into the river, where she breaks the surface with a loud splash.

"Kartik!" she sputters, wading back to the shore. "You horrible, dreadful, absolutely awful –"

"Yes?" I chide.

She glares at me through ribbons of wet hair plastered to her face. "- rude person!" she finishes.

I pretend to be wounded at her not-so harsh comment. "Gemma, how could you ever say such a thing to me, your beloved?"

"Beloved, my foot!" she gives me a sharp shove and I fall backwards into the water.

The water is a pleasant surprise. It is warm and cool at the same time, and feels better than any water I have ever been in before. When my head breaks the surface, I see Gemma standing on the bank, her white underclothes rendered transparent by the water. I will myself to look away, though the sight of her body is tough to ignore.

Her face is smug. "How do you like that, _beloved _Kartik?"

I grab her ankle and pull her back in. "I like it very much, thanks."

She can't pretend to be angry anymore. Her face breaks into a wide grin and she splashes playfully at me. I splash back, and soon we're in an all-out war.

She jumps on me, her slippery skin cool on mine. It doesn't take long before we are kissing each other frantically. The water makes her weightless, and she grips my sides with her knees, pushing herself up and allowing for a deeper kiss.

"Gemma," I say between kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and lips. "I – love – you – so – so – much!"

"I know," she throws her head back, allowing me access to her wet neck. She looks at the sky, her eyelashes peaked together from the water. "I love you too."

She lets go of me and falls back fully into the water again. I'm disappointed at her sudden departure. A pensive look crosses her face.

"So many questions," she whispers. "It's exhausting."

"I know what you mean."

She floats on her back in front of me, looking like a mermaid. "Sometimes, all I do is think. I try to piece together information to find answers. Sometimes I come up with things that make perfect sense. But, I never know if it's true or not."

"That, my dear, is philosophy."

"Ladies aren't supposed to have anything to do with philosophy. It's not good for us to do so much thinking," she is testing me, daring me to correct her.

"Do you honestly think that, Gemma?"

She is silent for a moment. "It drives me mad. I feel as though I will fall into my own head. But I cannot stop it. I am told I have a very vivid imagination."

"You do."

"Perhaps, but this is different from imagination." She looks troubled. "I feel as if I think things that I shouldn't."

"I don't believe that."

"It's true."

"So give me a taste."

She bites her bottom lip. "Do you remember the other night, when I said I sometimes felt as if nothing mattered?"

"Yes."

"Well, I kept thinking about it. This is what I came up with. I figure – if something matters to someone, it is important, regardless of what others think."

"That's about right." I trail my fingertips across the surface of the water. Somewhere in the distance, an odd-sounding bird calls out.

"But I kept thinking. Even if something isn't real, or true, as long as the person in question truly _believes _it, then it must exist, or be true. People can exist solely within themselves, if only they can will the world them to change." She dips her head backwards into the water and emerges again, her skin glimmering in the sunlight.

"I don't quite understand," I say, kicking away a fish darting about my legs.

She licks her lips in concentration. A fleeting image of my lips on hers passes through my head.

"How do I know that any of this is real? How do I know that _you _are real? What if the world as I see it is nothing but a figment of my imagination? And if it is so, how do I know that I cannot change my reality simply by willing it to change? Perhaps if I get to a certain level of mentality, I can change what I see. And even if I can't, I can at least _believe _that I have."

"That's pretty deep, Gem."

Her face falls. "You don't understand, do you?"

I look at her sad face with sympathetic eyes. "I _do _understand, Gemma. But I _don't_ think that your thoughts are unhealthy."

She says nothing.

"Think of it this way, you're a girl with a lot of dreams and hopes. However, your life prevents you from pursuing what you want. It's natural to look for a way out." I pause. "You're such a clever girl, Gem," I say warmly, trying to cheer her up.

She sighs heavily.

"Gemma, don't be so sad. Things will work out for the best."

"But what if they don't?" Her voice is quiet and wavers slightly.

I move through the water until I am at her head. I gently lift her head and shoulders, cradling her to my chest. I think of our whirlwind relationship with each other, how it hasn't even been a year since we've met. We're already so close, so much in love. This cannot just be a fling. We are together for a reason, I just know it.

"They always do, Gem. Things will always work out in the end."

Whether it is destiny or fate or choice that drives our actions, the reality is that Gemma and I are together. Granted, we are not supposed to be, but there it is. We are. We are together no matter what happens. So things will turn out okay. They have to.

I raise my eyes and take in the grandeur of the realms. It seems so easy to lose yourself in such a place, to never want to leave. A _place where all your dreams come true._

**Still experimenting with ways to write their relationship. This was a more playful side, and I think I like this chapter the best. I might go back and rewrite parts of the last two. Hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter might be in Gemma's POV, but I'm not entirely sure.**

**I write waaay too much lately! It keeps my head clear, and it's better than studying for Quantitative Methods in Psychology, which, ironically is the class I wrote both this chapter and "Exotic" in. It is possibly the most utterly useless class ever. And I can't catch up on my reading for it because of a horse show this weekend that requires me to leave the school at 4 am.  
**

**Yours in pain and prose,  
LunaEquus**


	4. Hobbies

**Libba Bray is so totally cool. I am not her. Therefore, I am not so totally cool.**

**Gemma's POV **

"Raise your chin a little to the – ah yes, that's it Miss Doyle."

"Such a lovely job you've done with the eyes! It's a spitting image of our Gemma. Pity she chose that necklace, though. Such an odd piece of jewelry surely takes away from her delicate features."

Delicate? I let out a snort, but quickly turn it into a cough as Grandmama and her hired portraitist fix me with their intolerant stares. I resign to my trained, expressionless face, aching for my portrait to be finished. Perhaps things would move along faster if my grandmother didn't insist on fawning all over the painting every few minutes. And then there is the painter. More tea, more biscuits, a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow… What ever happened to artists suffering for their work?

Instead it is most certainly the subject that suffers. I haven't dare moved for the past three hours, lest I submit to the wrath of my grandmother. For certainly, any slight changes in my posture will result in a catastrophe comparable to the end of the world itself. Ah, there it is! I can feel the flames of Hell claiming me now. Oh wait, dreadfully sorry, that is just the heat of the afternoon sun pouring into the room, where the fireplace is roaring, for the painter felt a draft. Apparently a draft in summer is a bad thing, or perhaps I am just grumpy from sitting here for so long in such boiling heat.

"Nearly finished," the painter says with a lilting voice.

I immediately start planning my freedom. I shall first change into one of my lighter weight dresses, loosening my corset as I do so. Then I shall take my hair out of the pinned prison it is in now. Afterwards I will steal away from the stuffy house and perhaps visit a certain coachman. Yes, that sounds like a good plan indeed.

"Now where was that smile when I was painting your face?" The painter's voice pushes thoughts of Kartik from my mind.

"Gemma, come and have a look at your portrait," Grandmama says, smiling proudly. Her expression reassures me that it is not awful, though I am nervous to see my first official portrait as a lady, the painting that will be on display for all to see at my coming out ball.

I stand slowly, wincing in pain at the movement as my muscles come out of their slumber. My legs feel grateful to support my weight again, though my bottom seems to have lost all feeling.

I take in the painting as I approach it; the expectant stares from the painter and grandmother boring into my head. It's lovely, but ordinary. I have been painted to look like a proper lady, stoic and emotionless, but the painter's talent is noticeable right away. The brushstrokes are delicate and soft, suitable for a debutante's portrait.

A debutante, is that what I am? I am a split personality, adventurous yet dutiful, obedient yet a complete rule-breaker. I have always just wished for life to be easy, to be a proper lady and nothing else, yet here I am, the portrait reflecting all but my secret side. The side of me I have never wanted but cater to with all my heart, the side of me that _is _me. What the careful strokes failed to capture was the magical, forbidden life I lead. On the canvas sits the girl everyone wants to see. What is missing is the girl who would rather run her own life.

Silent anticipation hangs in the air as my reaction is judged. As always, more is expected of me, and as always, I do not disappoint. I am a good girl on the outside, and a jumbled mess on the inside.

"It's beautiful!" I exclaim, satisfying my audience. More formalities are exchanged and endured, and soon I am free to leave.

Once in the sanctity of my room, I start undressing with haste. Off comes the elaborate gown of a flattering emerald silk. The corset is loosened, the stockings removed, the hairpins ripped out. I slip into a gauzy dress of the palest purple, my favorite color. I study my reflection carefully until I am confident that Kartik won't run screaming from me.

I emerge from the house a more comfortable, relaxed girl. The sun is still bright and the sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy clouds. My heart pangs as I remember watching clouds change shape with my mother. I see a cloud that resembles a duck; I keep my eyes glued to it as it slowly becomes a giraffe.

The breeze is a glorious relief from the heated drawing room. It causes my hair and dress to flutter about me. Instead of stopping at the carriage house, I keep walking to the grassy paddocks behind the mews, certain that Kartik would not want to spend such a day inside. I see father's two horses grazing peacefully, and Kartik sitting against a tree not too far away. He looks up from a book as I let myself through the gate.

"Hello," I say cheerfully, my mood as bright as the sun.

A beautiful smile lights up his face. "How did it go?" he asks.

"It was lovely, considering the cramped muscles and temperatures comparable to a furnace. I take it your afternoon was more desirable?" I silently curse myself for using the word 'desirable'. Now I've gone and summoned it in both our heads.

His mouth twists into a very subtle seductive smile. "As I wasn't with you, I can't say it was very _desirable._" He closes the book in his hands. It is larger than a normal book, and unmarked I notice.

"What are you reading?" I ask, reaching for the book.

"Nothing," he says quickly, snatching it away. "It's nothing."

Proper manners dictate that I do not press the matter further; however, I am far too curious in Kartik's private life to care. I advance again, blocking him from standing up. He is trapped between me and the tree.

Sighing in resignation, Kartik hands me the book. The book is heavy in my hands. Opening it reveals that it is not a book to read. Instead, charcoal sketches fill the thick pages. I look up in surprise.

Kartik's face is a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "I know, I'm not very good."

Turning the pages, I immediately disregard his comment. On the contrary, he shows some serious talent. One page shows numerous poses of a deer, sketched quickly but accurately, as if to capture it before it moved again. Another page features an immense structure, which I quickly recognize as Spence, drawn in perfect detail down to the last gargoyle. I go to turn the page, but Kartik steals it from me again.

"That's not very nice," I say hotly.

His cheeks are flushed. "You don't need to see anymore."

"You're quite good, you know."

The sudden change of my tone catches him off guard. His face softens. "Do you think so?"

"Yes. You have a lot of talent."

"Thank you," he mumbles, looking slightly proud of himself.

I sit next to him. "Is that what you do in your spare time?"

His hands grip the book as if he is afraid I'll try to take it again. "Maybe," he says indifferently.

I don't know why he is acting so childish. What is so embarrassing about drawing? "What's the matter?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says, looking at his hands. "Why would you ask?"

"You're so flustered."

He looks at me sheepishly. "I've never shown this to anyone before."

I look around to make sure no one is around. The horses are our only company. I place my hand atop his and kiss him softly. "It's good to have a hobby," I whisper, my face only a few inches from his.

"What's yours?"

"This," I say, kissing him again, more deeply than before. I know it's not proper to kiss a man. Ladies should wait to be kissed. But I am more content to give and take what I want, and I don't hear Kartik complaining. I hold his face in my hands and experiment with my tongue, letting it slip in between his lips, but withdrawing it before he can take control.

"Can I see the rest?" I murmur against his lips. My hand travels from his face, down his arm, and comes to a rest on the edge of the book. Before he can answer, I pull it from his hands and let go of him. I glance at him before opening the book. He nods slightly, clearing his throat.

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and open the book to the first page. A small scene of the gypsy camp is laid out in black in white.

"I drew this the first night I stayed with the caravan," Kartik explains.

"So this is what you did when you weren't stalking me," I joked lightly. The next few pages showed things that were ordinary enough – animals, scenery and the like, all accurately sketched out with charcoal. I came to the page that showed Spence, the page Kartik wouldn't let me turn past.

I look at him and study his expression. His eyes meet mine shyly. "Kartik," I say. "Is there something you don't want me to see on the next page?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "It's okay."

I turn the page and my heart gives a jolt. On the page it's…me. "When did you draw this?" I ask breathlessly.

"Around the time you and your friends visited Mother Elena. Do you hate it?"

I study the drawing carefully. It's different from the other sketches; instead of having the look of careless haste, the lines are soft and careful, implying he took his time with it. And it was detailed; there were the freckles, the disdainful look I used to carry on my features. The details were surprising, for I never posed for him, which meant he drew from memory, a fact that flattered me greatly.

"I love it," I say simply. Beside me, I feel his body relax. He kisses me on the cheek hastily.

"I've gotten better since then. At least, I think I have," he furrows his brows in an adorable manner. "I could draw you again, if you'd like."

"Would you? That'd be lovely!"

"I'll be right back then," he says, up and running before I can respond. I admire his retreating figure, the very image of male grace and strength. Kartik doesn't know how much I long to run my hands over him, feeling his muscles flexing under his smooth skin. His naked body must be such a sight to see.

I sigh and lean against the tree, stretching my legs out in front of me. My skirt pools around my knees, exposing my pale calves. I should be concerned, but I'm not. Not with Kartik. He can look at my legs if he wants to.

I tap my shoes together at the toes. I wonder what it would be like to be naked with Kartik. Not just in our undergarments, but properly naked. No doubt we wouldn't be able to keep our hands off of each other. I don't think I'd be nervous, I'm quite sure I'd enjoy myself.

Tap, tap.

Would it happen like my dream? Recalling the scene makes me ache in a most delightful fashion. I can practically imagine us rolling together, making love. I don't suppose I'd think of England once. Being with him would truly be an enjoyable experience, and I regret not doing it when I had the chance.

Tap, tap.

If only there wouldn't be so many repercussions if we did it. Why is it such a bad thing when it's so natural, and feels so good? Next time, I might not hold back. And what of Kartik? Will he try to resist for my wellbeing? How hard would I try to make him change his mind? I want him so badly.

Tap.

"Sorry I took so long," Kartik says, catching his breath.

"I didn't even notice you were back." It's the truth. I was so absorbed in my fantasies that I didn't see him.

He kneels next to me and presses his lips to mine in a quick kiss. "Colors!" he exclaims, holding a small package of pastels in his hand.

The feel of his lips lingers on mine. I brush them with my fingers, a new awareness of him forming since my revelation. I can feel his presence greater than before, and the urge to dispel all politeness and tear off his clothes right there.

"Are you okay?" Kartik's voice is laced with a touch of concern.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say quickly, blushing. What is the matter with me? I am a lady, not a prostitute. _But what's wrong with just sleeping with Kartik? NOTHING. _Okay, pregnancy is a bad thing, and I am not married to him. And he is Indian. Other than that, there is nothing wrong. I can, I can't, I can, I can't…

His choice can be mine.

"Kartik," I start. "Should we…?"

Beneath his black hair, his large eyes look at me curiously. "Yes," he says.

My heart skips a beat. Does he know what I was about to ask? But then he shakes his hair out of his eyes and grins. "Or no. It depends on what you want to know. But in order for me to answer, you have to ask."

I can't help but stare stupidly at him. Sometimes he just doesn't make any sense. Seeing my expression, Kartik's grin vanishes. He clears his throat again and gestures towards his sketchbook. I am thankful for the distraction.

I stand and reposition myself across from him, ready to pose for the second time today. "How shall I pose?" I ask.

"You don't have to. I can still draw if you move," he says, smiling again. I cannot help but note how handsome he looks. "I daresay you've had enough of posing."

"You spoil me, Kartik."

"Anything for you, Gemma."

I sigh. He really _has _given me everything. He gave up everything for me.

"I don't deserve you, Kartik."

His full mouth curves into a small smile, but he doesn't say anything. I watch him as he sketches, the pastels making quiet scratching sounds as they stroke the paper. The sunlight gleams on his black hair, highlighting each of his silky curls. He pauses, then selects another pastel, his long fingers wrapping around it. I dreamt of those fingers once, and they were equally skillful in another way.

He looks up at me, and I quickly turn my head. I can feel his gaze as I pretend to be enthralled with the horses. As I watch them, I realize that they remind me of Kartik and me. Ginger and her chestnut coat comparable to my own red hair, and Rajah who is black and shiny like Kartik's hair. I wonder vaguely if Ginger ever gets the urge to ravish Rajah, or vice versa. But then I remember that they are horses.

"Gemma," Kartik sings out in a lilting voice. "Gemma, Gemma, Gemma."

"Yes?" He doesn't even look up from his drawing.

"Nothing, I just like saying your name."

"I see." That's an odd thing to say, even for him. I toss my hair over my shoulder and pick a blade of grass. I am sorry to say that I am bored.

"You know what I liked most about the realms?" Kartik asks.

"What?"

He finally looks up at me. "It was like I was connected to you. Like the two of us shared a secret and everyone else was missing out."

"We do share a secret."

He smiles in his flirtatious way. "Yes, but it felt different there. It felt like everything just wanted us to be … together."

Now that I think back on it, my trip to the realms with him was different than any time I had went with Felicity and Ann. I could feel the pull of the magic, like magnetism, every time he came close. And once we were together, it felt right, like we should never have to be apart. Like the magic was coursing through both of us in a continuous circuit.

"Yet another question we need answered," I say.

"You felt it too, right?"

"I did."

He smiles broader. "Of course you did." He runs a hand through his hair. I'd like to do the same. In fact, I'd like to do a lot to him. He's so … irresistible and mysterious. I find I don't know that much about him.

"Kartik, what were you like as a boy?" If my question has startled him, he doesn't show it.

"I cannot remember much before the Rakshana, and once I was with them my childhood ended fast. I was obedient and quiet. Not much to say about it."

"Oh," I say, feeling sorry for him as a child. "You can't remember anything before the Rakshana? Not one little thing?"

He laughs softly. "I remember little things, like my mother's perfume and the silk of her saris." He notes my surprised expression. "Yes, my family had money. My father was quite a successful business man. Or something like that. I remember he'd sometimes have guests at the house, and I'd spy on them when I was supposed to be asleep."

Kartik smiles serenely. "My favorite color was green," he says, gazing at me. "Like your eyes."

My heart beats faster. "Mine's purple," I say quickly, indicating my gown. His eyes flit over the length of me, pausing briefly at my chest. I bite my lip, remembering just what he did to that part of me just a few nights ago. Here, in the bright sun, it seems ages away. "But your eyes aren't purple, sorry."

His eyebrows rise in surprise for a moment, and then he breaks out into laughter. "Clever Gemma," is all he says, and he goes back to work at his drawing.

I sigh and kick my shoes off. I want him to look at me. I want him to _want _me. But first, he has to _look_ at me. To my left, Ginger falls to the ground to roll. At the sound, Rajah looks at her, ears perked. There is no way I am going to roll around like that to get Kartik's attention. But it has given me an idea.

Placing my hands on the ground behind me, I arch my back into a luxurious stretch. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kartik's hand stop moving. I turn my head to look at him; he quickly looks away, resuming his drawing with an increased speed.

I laugh softly and watch as his cheeks burn. He looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the sugar bowl. "My, my, Mister Kartik, I must say you were looking at me as if I was a piece of ripe fruit," I chide playfully.

"Aren't you the little tease today, Miss Gemma."

"A tease? _Moi?_ Never!" I cross my bared legs in front of him and watch as his eyes travel their length. His desire emboldens me. I hold out my hand to him. "Would you like a bite?"

The book and pastels are tossed aside, forgotten. He is kneeling, a knee on either side of my legs, kissing me with fervor. I gasp as he bites the side of my neck. It doesn't hurt terribly, but it leaves a mark, which he kisses softly to soothe. I know we shouldn't do this in such plain sight, hidden only by a tree and the hope that no one is in the mews. I cannot help but twist my fingers into his dark curls, watching as my white skin gets lost in the inky black of his hair.

He traces his finger over the edge of the crescent moon of my amulet and then lets his fingers trail softly over the swell of my breast. I want so much to submit to this sweet torture, as I promised myself I was ready to, but this is not the right place. Too many people would see. Too many people could be watching right this very moment. Right now, watching us.

I push him off with a strangled cry. "Kartik! People might see!"

He looks slightly angered. "You started it, you know. Don't act as if it's my fault."

"I'm not. I was just worried someone would see us," I pause, wishing the anger would leave his face. "I'm sorry."

Silence stretches between us uncomfortably. "Don't be," Kartik finally says. "I am sorry that your hobby is so dangerous. Perhaps you should take up something safer."

My heart stops. Could he be suggesting…that we end our relationship?

He smiles. "Might I suggest lion taming?

I sigh, relieved. He picks up his sketchbook again and settles back against the tree.

"Kartik," I begin softly. He looks up at me. "I should clarify something I said before. You…are not just a hobby to me. I was only trying to be clever."

"I know, Gemma."

We look at each other for a few moments. He twirls a blue pastel between his fingers. A few yards away, Ginger and Rajah scratch each other's withers with their teeth. I can't help but laugh. At least Rajah can bite Ginger's neck without getting in trouble.

"Are you almost finished, Kartik?"

"Nearly."

"Can I see?"

"No."

I lay back in the grass with a huff. Above me, a castle turns into a frog, which slowly merges with a teacup. When I was a child, life was not this complicated. The frog-teacup turns into a girl. When I was a child, I got what I want. Another cloud becomes a boy. When I was a child, I didn't know Kartik. The breeze blows the girl and the boy together; they become one giant cloud.

Forget being a child, I want to become a cloud with Kartik. Well, figuratively speaking, of course. If I consummate my love with him, no one can force us apart. Even if we had a child of our own, there would be scandal, but at least we'd be damned together. Oh, why am I thinking this? There has to be a way our love would be okay. What if Kartik was reunited with his parents? At least he'd have money then. Money makes people accept you as one of them.

"Are your parents still alive?" I wince at how insensitive I sound.

It doesn't seem to bother Kartik. "I don't know," he says.

"What if they were?"

He eyes me curiously. "I don't know?" He shakes his hair from his eyes, a motion I notice he does a lot.

"What if you found your parents and they were ecstatic to see their son again? What if they accepted you back into their family again? You said they had money. Put two and two together, Kartik." Once again, I regret my word usage.

"I don't understand…" Kartik says slowly.

"If people thought you had money, it would be that much less of a scandal. We could paint you a past. People would accept you like they did Ann, only with you, it wouldn't be a lie."

"I don't know, Gemma. It's too much of a long shot."

I feel my face fall. He notes this with a sad smile. "I will make inquiries. But it might be very long until I know anything, if I get answers at all, that is."

It is good enough. "I will make inquiries as well," I say.

He cocks his head to the side in question, but returns to drawing when all I do is smile in response. A breeze ruffles his hair softly. He stops drawing and studies his work.

"I'm finished," he says, looking up.

"May I see now?"

He hands me the open book with a smile. My heart beats quickly as I take in the vivid colors. This is far different from anything else in the book, and not just because of the color. There is me, from just below my shoulders up. The crescent eye hangs around my neck, but other than that, nothing covers me. My face is serene and mysterious, albeit freckled, but still beautiful. My hair swirls up to become the everlasting sunset of the realms. My eyes, drawn out in perfect detail down to the last eyelash, match the emerald green of the garden. Behind my naked shoulders is the river we swam in, its crystalline blue inviting even on paper. What surprises me most about the drawing is not the undeniable beauty of it, but the truth behind it. Kartik has captured the girl that no one sees, or wants to see.

That is, expect for him. Kartik never fails to see me, the real me.

"So…" he starts. "Do you like it?"

"It is perfection. If only we could frame this for all to see."

Kartik snorts. "They'd take one look at the bare shoulders and run away screaming."

"What made you draw me like this?"

He shrugs. "I drew what I saw in my head. You and the realms, the two most beautiful things I've ever laid eyes on." He grins at my blushing face.

"Can I keep this?"

He takes the book back and carefully pulls the page from its binding. "It's yours," he says, handing it back to me.

"Thank you, I shall treasure it," I reply, trying not to jump on him and further put my reputation in jeopardy. A sudden thought crosses my head. "I'd like for you to attend my coming out ball, Kartik."

His eyes widen. "Are you joking?"

"Not at all."

"But I wasn't invited. I'm your _servant_."

"Not anymore," I say cheerfully. "You're my wealthy friend from Bombay."

He knits his brows in frustration. "I am your _coachman._ It is no doubt that I will be recognized as such."

"Kartik," I sing out. "Kartik, Kartik, Kartik."

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing, I just like to say your name." He stares at me in disbelief. I sit next to him and brush the curls from his smooth forehead and plant a kiss there. His warm brown eyes are unsure and searching as he looks into mine. "You're dabbling in charitable acts before you follow in your father's footsteps. You wanted to see life from the other side to better understand your clients."

"You're mad, Gemma. So mad, in fact, it just might work." His eyebrows rise excitedly. "And if it doesn't…" he kisses me full on the lips.

"It will," I say, kissing him back. I settle against the tree, hidden from sight, and wrap my arms around him. Beyond us, Rajah nickers throatily to Ginger, who answers back with a shrill neigh. Over Kartik's shoulder, I see them nuzzle each other, then trot off together.

Things are looking up for all of us, it seems.

**Um, totally won first place at my horse show! And I classed up. So...go me? But that's just me bragging, pay no mind.**

**So Gemma and Kartik are scheming. Disaster? Eh, let's give them a break. Three more chapters to go!**

**Reviews make my world go round. (That, and _Heroes_)**

**I love sleeping,  
LunaEquus**


	5. Answers

**Disclaimer: Libba Bray, not me.**

**This chapter's short...and descriptive. Lots of history, of how I think things may have been.**

** Gorgon's POV  
**

I hadn't been down the river in this direction since the Most High had bound the magic to herself. Instinct has told me of her presence in the realms a few times since then, but I haven't had any obligation to see her. Often times, the wind has carried the laughter of her friends, the same girls that I have met before. Nothing has seemed amiss, so I have been keeping to myself, floating in my favorite part of the river, away from the Untouchables and away from the garden, both reminders of the cursed priestesses that have wronged us all in the past.

This new girl is different. I believe that she means to return the magic to its rightful owners, all of the inhabitants that reside here, as well as the Order and the Rakshana. There was once a time when peace reigned in our realms, but soon those not of this world took the power for themselves. The creatures that lived here began fighting each other for whatever magic was left. This girl has the power to restore harmony. Regardless of her intentions, the realms have chosen her as the Most High, and she wields the magic with incredible power. Whether or not she realizes this power is unbeknownst to me, for I have not seen any signs of her making decisions on behalf of the magic.

Well, perhaps there has been one occurrence of a potential action on her part. The last time I have felt her presence in these realms, there was another with her, one who has never before stepped foot here. Unlike the other friends she has brought to the garden, this one had a different aura about him. Such an entity has not been here since ancient times, when magic was shared between two groups that were not of this world. I believe that he may be Rakshana, a fact that indicates that the Most High has indeed broken the authority the Order once had.

My curiosity is what has driven me from my peaceful anchor along the river. Most High is back with her male friend, and I mean to find out what her intentions are. If he is Rakshana, why would she even try to bring him?

She is calling my name. It seems we both mean to speak with one another. The air changes as I approach the garden. What would be considered pleasant to some is an unfortunate reminder of our magic used against us. This is their magic; a place of the Order, where the initiates began their training as priestesses. It was here that I started the revolt; this clear water once flowered with the delicate blood of fragile girls, not yet trained to use the shaky magic they possessed. I would not dream to do the same to the girl on the banks now; for she is too strong and too noble, the only hope we have left of salvation.

He is surprised to see me, though by no means frightened like her other friends. I respect that, a sure sign of bravery on his part. His appearance confirms that he is indeed Rakshana, for the dark hair and dark eyes are no stranger to these parts.

Without being asked, I lower my plank for them to climb aboard. I notice the secret tenderness between them as he helps her to climb up; it is a most curious thing, for nothing but tolerance and a degree of resent has existed between the Order and the Rakshana for centuries.

"Gorgon," Most High speaks, her eyes shining. "I would like to introduce you to my friend Kartik."

I swivel my head close to him; he doesn't flinch, however, he seems to be on his guard. He nods to me, unsure of what to say.

"Most High," I say, turning to her. "You have brought one of the Rakshana to the realms."

An awkward look is exchanged between them. "Well, not exactly. Kartik was once part of the Rakshana, but he is no longer."

I blink in response. I was not aware that members of the brotherhood could be dismissed so easily. Sensing my question, the boy speaks up.

"I was given the task to help find the Temple. Once Gemma bound the magic in the name of the Eastern Star, I was to kill her. I could not do so, and betrayed the Rakshana to save her."

"Interesssting," I say. "Perhapsss peace can be restored after all."

"That is the idea," Most High says. "Gorgon, I – we have some questions, if you would be so kind."

"Sssit," I say. I respect our Most High, and do not mind sharing answers. There is always the chance I will be rewarded with a share of the magic, so I will not try to lead her astray, unlike the others she consults with.

Most High sits on the bow, closest to me, with the boy on her other side. He looks around with interest, taking in the silver nets and snakes in my hair. "I feel like I am in _The Odyssey,_" he whispers to Most High. She smiles at him secretively, but I do not miss it. I see all, from the Forest of Lights in the very distance, to the way her hand brushes against his softly. It is a blessing and a curse to be so omnipotent in such a time, for I see things that sometimes I wish I was oblivious to.

"Gorgon," she says uncertainly. "You said the Order and the Rakshana were once lovers. Why was that so?"

Of course the priestess and her consort want to know about such a thing. "There was once a time when hostility did not exist between the Order and the Rakshana. They both were equally capable of wielding the magic of the realmsss. However," I pause, fixing my eyes on Most High. She looks near bursting with expectance. "It was only members of the Order that had that potential intrinsically. The Rakshana had no meansss to enter the realms or wield the magic alone until a ritual took place."

"But then why did the Order need the Rakshana at all then?" Most High asks. It is an innocent question, but the boy does not look very pleased.

"The Order needed the Rakshana for protection. Without us – I mean, them, the priestesses would be a danger to themselves and others. Isn't that correct, gorgon?" he pipes up.

"Let me finish telling you the history between them and you shall see. Thisss was a time long ago, when the priestesses of the Order were considered to be witches. They were feared by their people, and many were hunted down and killed. The Rakshana was formed to offer protection to the priestesses.

"The brothers became guardians and confidants to the priestesses. Not only did they offer protection, but they also acted as friends and inevitably, lovers. Many members of the Rakshana were men in high placesss, and they relieved the Order from disgrace by marrying many of the priestesses. There was Charlemagne and Luitgard, Arthur and Morgan Le Fay, and Philip of Milly and Isabella, to name a few.

"The priestesses wanted to share the magic with their lovers. Whether or not they anticipated the conflictsss in the future, they discovered a way to share power with the Rakshana, and did so by way of an ancient ritual in the Cave of Sighs."

The boy frowns slightly, as if he is searching his brain for something. "What sort of ritual could be done? I know of many different rituals for binding and religious purposes…" He absently traces his fingers on the wood beneath him, creating patterns in the slight layer of dust.

"The ritual was one of deeper binding than blood rituals or anointed oilsss. What took place between brother and priestess was something sacred and secret. Together, they would drink from the watersss of the Temple, and then proceed to consummate both their love and their allegiance to each other. The ending result was the housing of the magic within each of them, both inside and outside of the realms."

The two look shocked. Most High speaks first.

"But the priestesses were of my age when the ritual took place, weren't they?"

"Indeed."

"But what of their lives outside of the Order? Wouldn't such a ritual ruin them socially? What if…?" she trails off, but I know what she means to ask.

"You are not of this world. Therefore, you cannot create life here."

Most High is silent as she glances at the boy, who clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable. However, whatever ill feelings existed between them earlier appear gone.

I float lazily down the river in silence for a few moments. The Cave of Sighs looms ahead. Most High points it out to her companion. He stares in awe at the women emerging from the stone.

Most High speaks again. "What else do you know about the union between the Order and the Rakshana?" Her hand is entwined with his.

"Once they completed the ritual, they had a bond more sacred than marriage. It was a bond for life, though sometimes they lived apart. As each group became more diverse, social boundaries became stronger. It was not unlikely that members would marry other people, even though their heart and soul belonged to another. Thus, the realms became the only place loversss could be together. It was around this time when the alliance became weaker.

"However, when unions did transcend the realms, children were often born of the couple. The magic ran through the female side of the family, so daughtersss were the only children born with magical potential. Because of the combined power of the parents, the daughter received the power twofold. Thus, the power grew with each generation.

"But thisss did not last. Not only were the beings of the realms fighting among each other for more power, alliances between the Order and Rakshana were weakening. Society's constraint on the priestesses forced them to marry other men and do other things. Because of this, the priestesses stopped letting themselves fall in love with their protectors. Therefore, the Rakshana were cut off from the magic and the realms. As you can imagine, they were displeased.

"Things within the realms snapped as well. Rebellionsss were made against the Order, and out of spite, the Order bound the magic to the runes, making it possible for only them to wield the magic. Things have been that way until you came along, Most High."

She sits in silence, trying to organize her thoughts. The roar of the approaching golden mist distracts her. She turns her head in excitement.

"Kartik! That is the waterfall I told you about!"

My planks shudder as I pass under the mists. Most High has sprung from her spot, shrieking with glee. The boy glances at me, then follows her. "What do you think, would I make a grand statue?" he says, posing like a ballerina.

Most High snorts. "Hardly. Sooner or later you would get an itch."

He drops his arms and wraps them around her waist. "Then I would just have you scratch it for me."

She laughs and pushes him away to return to her seat. He looks after her, admiration registering on his dark features.

"Gorgon," she says. "Can we turn around? I do not wish to visit the Forest of Lights today."

"Underssstood," I say, coming to a stop. The water slaps against my sides as I turn smoothly to face the way we came. "I take it you do not wish to meet with Philon, Most High?"

She turns her troubled face to me. The Rakshana boy walks about the back of the ship, fingering the nets and peering into chests. He is a curious one, that boy.

"Gorgon, do you think it possible to restore the realms to the peaceful state they once were in?"

"Anything'sss possible."

She gazes at the boy behind her. "I do not wish to hurt anyone in the process. So many people are at stake. I feel that the slightest mistake on my part will bring everyone down."

"You have the answersss in your heart, Most High. You are Lady Hope, the chosen one. The fate is in your choices."

She laughs bitterly. "Choice and fate are very different things."

"Are they?"

She furrows her brows. "I always believed that one was not in control of their fate. It is preordained by a higher power," she says slowly.

"Things can change."

"So they can," she echoes.

The boy is back. He sits next to Most High and stares at the horizon, taking in every sight with wide eyes. I have good feelings about this boy, that he shall play a large role in the salvation of the realms. After all, he shows true qualities of the Rakshana; though he betrayed them, it was out of loyalty to a priestess of the Order, which is essentially the Rakshana's true purpose.

"Tell me, Kartik of the Rakshana" I say, addressing him for the first time. "What are your feelingsss towards your brotherhood?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "I am no longer part of their number, so my opinions do not matter."

I blink. "Your opinions matter here."

He turns to Most High, searching for reassurance. She nods to him slightly. He takes a deep breath. "The Rakshana have been my family since I was a child. Under their care, I received an education and training that I'd have certainly not obtained without them. I owed my allegiance to them, and rightfully so, but I betrayed them. Not that I regret helping Gemma, of course," he says quickly.

I take in the sight of him, so obviously attached to his respective priestess. "And what do you think of their plansss to take over the realms and the magic?" It is a trick question, and he senses it.

"I knew nothing of those plans except for what they told me. I knew not of what they planned to do once the magic was in their possession. When I learned of my task to deceive Gemma into binding the magic in our – their name, I was confused, for I had never known of the conflicts between the two groups. I never quite formed an opinion on the subject, as I was quite preoccupied with my other task. I suppose the notion of killing Gemma was what caused me to rethink my loyalty to the Rakshana. And now it is quite obvious that my loyalty lies with Gemma and the Order."

"I sssee," is all I say.

"And what of you, gorgon? Where do your loyalties lie?" he says, staring me in the eyes. Something about his tone gives me the fleeting desire to turn him to stone, as I can easily do when provoked. I do not like being accused of anything; however, I know he is just being cautious.

"Like the othersss of these realms, my loyalties lie with the victor. Unlike the others, however, I know the victor will be Most High."

"How can you be sure?"

"I can sssense it." I turn my head away from him, communicating that I do not wish to discuss that matter further. After so many years of life and war, I easily grow weary of suspicion.

The garden once again nears, and I lower my plank to release the humans. The sunset glows on their heads, making them look fiery.

They give their thanks and goodbyes, and retreat up the glossy banks of grass. I watch them together for a few minutes with a sense of sadness. If passion is a fire, then they are certainly kindling, ready to ignite at any given moment. I remember a happier time when such a fire kept me warm, though now these planks are cold and wet.

But there is always hope. Most High is a reminder of that. If a priestess of the Order and a brother of the Rakshana can fall in love like the days of past, then perhaps these realms will see unity once more.

**Wow. That was...difficult. As you can see, a plot is sort of developing. I'm totally going to change the previous chapters...eventually.**

**So, history. Plausible? Ridiculous? YOU tell ME.**

**Two more chapters + Epilogue. Then go back and put in Prologue? I tend to complicate things. **

**Um...I'll be riding a lot for the next few days (spring break), so you may get an update, or you may not. In any case, check to see if I revise anything, though I doubt I will yet.**

**I'mrecentlyandpatheticlyaddictedtoNeopetsagain,  
LunaEquus (or spaceycowgirl on NP...look me up!)**


	6. Author's Note

**Author's note!**

Okay, I have been very busy lately and I have sort of hit a wall with my writing.

For a few days now, I have realized how crap my writing is. I mean, it's grammatically correct and such, but so tremendously out of character that it makes me a bit ill.

So that is why, I call on YOU, faithful readers, to help me "make it work".

If you would be so kind, perhaps you could drop me a line on which parts need fixing and maybe give suggestions on how to fix it? I want to make this a polished piece, not just some drabble like "Civilizing Kartik".

So I have been pretty busy with school. I'm raising a yearling (baby horsie) 3 days a week and it's a lot of fun. His name is Zidane (yes, after the head-butting soccer player), and he's 10 months old, 950 pounds, and a very light golden dun. And he loves me. And I LURVE him. If I were to have a child, and for some reason it was a horse, that would be him. He's even blonde like me. But I am sad, because he hurt his leg and he is limping.

But that has nothing to do with my fanfiction, it is just me gushing about my BABY!!!

So because you all totally rock, I thought I'd give you a little list of mood music for the fic. This is what I listen to when I write, some of them for the music, some for the lyrics:

Coldplay – Green EyesColdplay – Trouble  
The Fray – How to Save a Life  
Gwen Stefani – The Real Thing  
Jamiroquai – Seven Days in Sunny June (gee I wonder why)  
Jamiroquai – Everyday  
Jamiroquai – Starchild  
Jamiroquai – Butterfly  
Justin Timberlake – Future Sex/Love Sound  
Justin Timberlake – Love Stoned  
Justin Timberlake – What Goes Around/Comes Around  
Madonna – Crazy for You  
Madonna – Cherish  
Madonna – Take a Bow  
Madonna – Get Together  
Madonna – Future Lovers  
Madonna – Secret  
Nelly Furtado – Say it Right  
Radiohead – High and Dry  
Radiohead – Street Spirit (Fade Out)  
Snow Patrol – Chasing Cars (honestly, the lyrics are PERFECT for Kartik and Gemma)  
Dirty Dancing Soundtrack – Hungry Eyes  
Berlin – Take My Breath Away

So, in closing, HELP ME! Please?

And the next chapter should be up in the next week. Once I try to put the insane Ooc-ness in check.

Love and diet coke,  
LunaEquus


	7. Cave of Sighs

**I've been listening to your FANTASTIC reviews. I hope this pleases. It may certainly surprise.**

**Kartik's POV**

Humidity hangs unpleasantly in the air, the promise of a late-night thunderstorm. I toss and turn beneath the twisted cotton sheets, trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep. I rise to open the window as far as it will go, hoping for a hint of a breeze to alleviate the heaviness in the air. I may have grown up in India, but I never cared for humidity, for it makes me irritable and sweaty. I rid myself of my damp shirt before returning to my bed.

There, that is one less thing to plague me. The heat alone is not what keeps me awake, for I have slept quite well in lesser conditions. Tomorrow brings Gemma's birthday, and her coming out ball. I should be happy for her, really. It is such an important occasion for her, but I can't help but feel uneasy. I am a terrible friend for dreading the morning, but I know how much she wants me to attend her party. I also know how much I do not want to.

Really, what good will my presence do anyway? It is not the sort of thing I was bred for. I also do not wish to see Gemma dancing with other men, specifically the dreaded Simon Middleton.

I also have other reasons to blame for my anxiety. I plan on going back to India for awhile, to perhaps find my parents, or at least someone of relation. I do not know what to expect from Gemma when I tell her this. Some birthday present that will be – "Happy Birthday, I am not going to your party. In fact, I am leaving the country." I expect it might break her heart, and there is nothing I'd rather do less.

But perhaps she would ask to come with me. India was her home too, though now would be a terrible time for her to leave. Now that she will be accepted into society (by the Queen, no less!) as a lady suitable for marriage, there will be many balls for her to attend, and people to meet, and men to be courted by…

Come to think of it, this is a horrible time for me to leave as well. How do I know she won't just forget about me? My heart aches with the notion.

I listen to the first drops of rain falling and try to clear my head of ill thoughts. Somewhere, a cricket chirps, and its rhythmic chorus slowly lulls me to sleep. In the recesses of my brain, I draw up an image of Gemma, sunlight gleaming off of her magnificent hair. Her gauzy dress flutters about her like an angel's wings in the breeze. She smiles softly as she leans in for a kiss…

"Kartik," she whispers. "Wake up."

My eyelids flutter open, but I am still caught in the confusing space between dreaming and reality. Have I somehow conjured her up? I vaguely feel her hand brush the hair from my forehead. The touch rouses me completely.

"Gemma?" I sit up and run a hand through my hair to make sure it hasn't run wild. I am not entirely confident it hasn't.

She sits gingerly on the edge of my bed and smiles rather nervously. I cannot see her very clearly in the muted blue of the night, but I can smell the earthy scent of rain about her.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, wondering why she would sneak out in such weather to see me.

"I wanted to see you. Before…" her voice trails off. The silence that follows would have been uncomfortable months ago, though now it is just because we both know what has been left unsaid. She wants to see me before she won't be allowed to anymore.

"Gem," I clear my throat. As the mood is already negative, my news couldn't do it any worse. "I am not going to attend your ball."

She surprises me with smile, albeit a sad one. "I know, Kartik. I figured you wouldn't."

"I am sorry," I say.

She frowns, searching my face. "There's something else, isn't there?"

Her question comes more as an accusation, and is answered by my silence. I never like telling her things I know she does not wish to hear.

"What is it?" She whispers, her voice sounding defeated.

The humidity and heat bear down on me, intensified by what I have to tell her. "I'm leaving England," I say simply, figuring beating around the bush would be nothing short of torture to her now. My heart aches for her, the poor girl, always being told bad news.

"What? Where are you going? Why?"

"I am returning to India."

"But why? Why now? You cannot leave now!" Her voice is choked with tears.

"I wish to find my family. You gave me the idea, Gemma. Besides, you'll be so busy, you won't even notice I'm gone," I say, trying to sound cheerful, though it just sounds fake.

She sighs miserably. "So you want me to forget about you?"

"What? No, Gemma. I didn't say that."

"So that's it then? You get to leave, and I have to stay here and forget about what we have?"

The tears flow freely down her cheeks now, and the sight of them makes me feel terrible. "Gemma, I didn't mean that."

"Then what did you mean?" she cries.

"All I meant was that I was returning to India _temporarily _to try to find my parents! Nothing else is changed, Gemma!"

She flings herself into me, pushing me back into the pillows. Her rain-kissed skin is cool against my hot, clammy body. "I don't want you to go!"

"I know," I whisper, defeated. She has taken the news worse than I thought. She cries into my bare shoulder and I stroke her hair lightly, trying to quell her. I am slightly bewildered, though I suspect there are other reasons for these tears. Gemma doesn't cry often, and when she does it's from numerous things.

"I'm sorry Kartik!" she wails.

"Shh, it's okay."

Her sobbing soon lets up. "Everything hurts," she says shakily. "It's all too much."

All of a sudden, I feel completely rotten for bringing this upon her. "I'm still here for you, Gem," I say softly.

"No you're not. You're leaving."

"Only for awhile."

"You will come back, won't you?"

I laugh lightly. "Don't I always?"

I feel her smile against my chest. I hug her tightly. "Nothing can keep me from you for long, Gem."

She sits up, rubbing her eyes with one hand and lifting her hair from her neck with the other. In her sleeveless silk nightgown, she looks good enough to eat. She seems to realize the compromising situation we are in, and in the dark, I see her green eyes linger on my bare torso. She lets her hair drop decisively, and leans over me precariously.

"Kartik," she whispers. "There was something else I wished to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"Let's go to the realms," she says excitedly.

A thrill runs through me as I catch on to her intentions. For what other reason would she want to go to the realms at such an hour?

My heart pounds wildly as the blessed girl summons the door of light. The vivid brightness of the garden is a stark contrast from my dim bedroom. An inviting breeze off of the river relieves our skin of uncomfortable heat, and with it I feel renewed, though I cannot help but feel like I am still dreaming.

Gemma leads me out of the garden, to where, I do not know. All the time we wasted frantically searching for the Temple (and in my case, dreading its discovery), and I still do not know where it is. True, I have not needed to know until now, but the irony of it is still quite humorous. I start to laugh. Gemma looks at me quizzically.

"What is so funny?" she asks with raised eyebrows.

"I am to help you find the Temple and bind the magic!"

She cocks her head playfully to the side. "Really? Is that so?"

"Yes," I say, trying to keep a straight face. "That is my task."

She scowls in jest. "But what is your _other _task, Kartik?"

"There is no other task."

She kisses me forcefully. "We shall see about that."

There is an urgency in her voice that I find quite attractive, as it matches my own. We both know what is going to happen, and we are both very, _very _excited for it.

Fantasies of what may come fill my head as Gemma leads the way to the Temple. I scarcely take in my surroundings, for I cannot tear my eyes from the figure in front of me. The white silk of her nightgown does little to mask the curves that move beneath it, and I can hardly concentrate on anything other than the gentle swaying of her hips as she walks.

We come to a stop in front of a wall of rock seemingly blocking the rest of our trek. Her hand lightly strokes the rock, a gesture that has a pressure building inside of me. I decide to act upon it.

"Gemma," I say breathlessly, pushing her up against the wall. "Surely, it does not matter if we reach the Temple, does it?" I claim her lips before I let her answer. With a soft moan, she pushes me away.

"Kartik, we shall continue on to the Temple."

I gesture grandly to the cliff blocking our way. "It doesn't exactly seem to be here, Gem."

She smiles widely. "It is much closer than you think."

I groan. "Certain things cannot wait very long, Gemma."

She traces the line of my jaw. "Certain things will _have _to wait, Kartik. For the moment, patience is a virtue." She turns her attention back to the rock.

As it would seem, I am quite impatient. "And how is that?" I ask, leaning against the wall.

"It builds character." She pulls open a nonexistent door in the wall of rock and grins triumphantly. "Not that you need any, of course."

"Of course," I echo emptily. I follow her inside the door. Lanterns hang around us, casting a golden glow about.

"Well?" Gemma asks.

"Hm?" Surely this is not the Temple…

"All this time, you've just been following me, no questions asked. It is most unlike you."

She's right; I am normally much more curious about everything, though for once, my head is not in the present. Rather, it's trying to gain a glimpse into the future. My future. A delicious thrill runs through me as I picture the two of us lolling about on a bed. It is something I have thought about often, but never really thought would happen. Yet, by some stroke of luck, it seems to be not only something desirable for me, but also something necessary for the future of the realms.

"I have other things on my mind, I suppose."

She shakes her head in bemusement and starts walking into the darkness. I follow quickly, not wanting to delay things any longer. The trek through the tunnel inclines, and soon my legs grow slightly weary, evidence that I have been too comfortable sitting around being a coachman. I silently vow to get more exercise in the future.

When we reach the second door, Gemma is positively out of breath. I reach forward to open the door for her, like a true gentleman, but I find I cannot.

"It's stuck," I say, exerting pressure on the door.

"Allow me," Gemma says, turning the handle with ease. She smiles slightly at my expression. "Just an added benefit of being the single pillar of the realms. _All _doors open for me."

We step out into the sunlight again. Wind whips our hair around and I note that we are at quite a high altitude. Heavily perfumed incense drifts through the air, bringing with it a horribly disfigured woman. She and Gemma share a diplomatic gesture, and then she glances at me curiously, similar to how the gorgon received me. However, she says nothing, only steps aside with a bowed head.

Up ahead there is a strange wall of water. Gemma leads me to it. There is no sound other than our soft footsteps, yet the silence is deafening. I am increasingly evident of my own breathing and heartbeat, both of which resonate with Gemma's. Together, we walk through the water into a room with a circular well.

"This is the Temple, Kartik," Gemma says. "This is where I bound the magic to myself…" She gently takes my face in her hands and kisses me. "And this is where we will bind the magic to you as well." She picks up a goblet I hadn't noticed resting on the edge of the well and dips it into the water.

I watch it slow motion as she raises the cup to her lips, drinking deeply. She closes her eyes as if savoring the drink, and hands the cup to me. The liquid feels strange on my tongue, initiating the same odd tingling I felt the first time I visited the realms. Gemma presses her body to mine, a perfect fit. Something pushes us off balance. And then we are falling backwards through the well.

I brace myself to hit the stone bottom, but instead we land on something rather plush. I open my eyes to find that we are no longer in the well, but in a bedchamber of sorts. Beautiful frescoes grace the walls, hidden partially by gossamer curtains and thick colored incense. And then there is Gemma, lying back into the satin jewel-toned pillows, admiring the room as well.

"How lovely," she whispers.

Oh yes, she is lovely. I twirl one of her copper curls around my finger, marveling at how silky her hair feels, and wondering how I have never noticed before. She watches me intently, teasing the ribbons of her neckline. Her eyes burn with a hunger I have never seen before, and I am all too happy to whet her appetite.

Ignoring the triumphant music playing in the back of my head, I unbutton my trousers, kicking them off as I do so. I watch her reaction carefully for fear, regret, guilt, anything that would tell me to stop. Her face flushes, but not with embarrassment. I know exactly how hot and bothered she is feeling.

I slide my hands up her thighs, savoring the soft skin beneath my fingertips, and relieving her of her nightgown. I allow myself one moment to take in the sight of her, more perfectly formed then I have could ever have imagined. And it's all for me.

I dip my head to kiss her neck, and my mind goes blissfully blank. I am aware of everything and nothing, for right now, all that matters is laid out upon these pillows, two intensely fervent lovers.

My lips travel down her porcelain body, silently noting which places to return to, and which places have her gasping my name. So long have I waited to explore the mysterious Gemma Doyle, to unlock her secrets. I savor every minute of it.

Her hand lightly brushes my shoulder. "Kartik…" she whispers almost inaudibly. I lift my head from her lower abdomen to meet her gaze. She beckons me closer, and I happily oblige. Our lips meet in the most passionate kiss with have ever shared. And then male instinct takes control of my body.

When I claim her, it's as if the world itself holds its breath. My eyes flutter open at the force of the pulsating magic coursing through me. Is it magic? I can no longer tell. I look deep into Gemma's eyes, and it is as if I am seeing her for the first time. I am lost in her emerald gaze, being pulled deeper into the swirling hues of green. I see the forest in which we've rendezvoused many times. I see the dusty marketplace we first met in. I see myself and Gemma, kissing, dancing, arguing, laughing… I've shared so much with her and all I want is more.

We experience a rhythm so fine it is like music. Our passion builds like the pressure inside of me. I open my eyes again, to watch Gemma's expression. She is flushed and sweaty, brows furrowed in ecstacy; it gives me great satisfaction to see her this way at my expense.

She seems to notice me watching her. Her eyes spring open and she holds my gaze. Then, without warning, she throws her arms around my neck, arching her body into mine and kissing me with a renewed ardor. The new angle has me shaking and gasping for breath. We are waltzing to the most sacred of pieces, and the crescendo is fast approaching.

I feel as if I should come apart. Gemma's mouth leaves mine with a groan. I am vaguely aware of her leg crossing over mine, drawing me ever closer... I shouldn't care if I never live to see the next day. If the world were to end, I would not be bothered. All I have ever lived for is in this moment.

She cries out, clutching to me as if I were her life support. My Gemma, my love, _my god, she feels so good!_

"Gemm –uhh," I moan. She opens her eyes slightly, but it's as if she's in a trance. "Iloveyou," I whisper quickly, inhaling sharply. And then I am gone. Pleasure rushes over me in waves. I am aware of every inch of my body and hers; we are one, forever to be joined by this single moment. But all too soon, it is over, and everything goes blank.

* * *

I wake to the sounds of birds chirping and horses snorting. The dim light of dawn casts a surreal glow in my room. My room? Has it all been a dream? I look down and see my trouser-clad legs. I roll onto my stomach with a pitiful groan. I am fit to fall back asleep, but I feel something stir next to me. 

My heart beats frantically. So it wasn't a dream after all. Gemma turns and looks at me groggily. Then she closes her eyes with a slight smile, snuggling into me.

_I could get used to this_, I hear her say.

"Get used to what?" I ask before realizing that she never opened her mouth to speak.

Her eyes open and she stares at me in wonder. "You -,"

"Heard your thoughts?" I finish with a smile.

"It worked…"

_Are you sure it worked? Shall we try again to make sure?_ I throw her a sly grin. She blushes in response and props her head up on her hand. With her free hand, she brings my hand to her mouth and places light kisses across my knuckles. I watch her as she does so, unable to prevent a smile from playing on my mouth.

"Happy birthday, miss," I say, resting my palm against the curve of her hip, drawing her closer to me.

"Thank you," she says, placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

"So what happens now?"

She lets her head drop to the pillow and closes her eyes. I strongly assume she is not a morning person. "You leave the country, Kartik. That is what happens next." She says this with such frankness that I cannot help but feel guilty.

I don't say anything. A pained expression crosses her fair features, but she does not open her eyes. "When do you leave?" she whispers.

"Tomorrow."

_Of course, you leave just as I am forced upon every man in London between the ages of seventeen and forty._

"Gem –,"

"No!" she cries out, startling me. "You think everything will be okay when you're gone, but that is now how it is! Your absence means nothing to my family! They don't know that I love you; they don't _care _if I do!"

I narrow my eyes at her. "I thought you said your father wanted you to be happy."

"All he wants is for me to catch the eye of a wealthy, respectable man."

"I though you talked to him about us!"

She looks away, her cheeks reddening. _Perhaps I lied to you then._

My stomach turns unpleasantly and my face grows hot. "_Perhaps _you lied to me? What is that supposed to mean?" I try to keep my voice level, but I cannot mask the venom in it.

She shrugs and avoids my gaze. I grab her shoulder and force her to look at me, perhaps with a bit more force than I had meant. Her green eyes meet mine and for and instant I see fear beyond their glassy surface. Then the hardness is back with a vengeance. "Yes, Kartik, I _lied _to you. Just like you've _lied _to me many times before."

"That was different, Gemma! I lied to you to keep you safe, not to _hurt_ you!"

"Yes, but you lied all the same." Her voice wavers.

"You are impossible!"

She laughs bitterly. "Oh yes, Kartik, I am the impossible one. I'm being tugged in every direction, having to serve to all sorts of people. 'Do this, Gemma, don't do that!' 'Bind the magic, save the world!' 'Marry someone you don't love! It's okay, they don't love you either, but the couple you make is so charming.' God forbid I try to have interests of my own!"

I look away from her, realizing she is right. She jumps up from the bed, the air around her crackling with her fury. "You know what, Kartik? Leave. Go ahead and leave. I'll be fine here without you. In fact, I think I'll dance with Simon Middleton tonight. Yes, I shall enjoy it very much I think. And you know what else? If he's nice to me, maybe I will let him take me to bed!"

She stares at me defiantly, waiting for a response. I glare at her. "You wouldn't," I say flatly.

She flares to life. "Oh yes, I would. Because apparently, that is the type of girl I am - one who gives up her maidenhood to someone that _leaves her the next day_."

Her words hit me like a slap, and she stares as if she would very much like to do just that. I'm stunned into silence, unable to say anything. She's right; I should not be leaving now.

"Gem," I plead, searching for my words. "If I had known what we were, um, going to do last night, I would not have made arrangements to leave."

This does not please her. "Kartik!" she hisses. "I don't think you understand quite what is at stake here! I – am – ruined! Unchaste, tainted, impure, whatever you'd like to call it. You can't just leave now. We need to figure out what we are going to do!"

"Oh, so I ruined you, is that it? If I remember correctly, it was YOU that made the advances, Gemma dear. Or did you just do so because you needed a reason to guilt me into staying?"

She opens her mouth and closes it. I stand and walk over to her, until we are but inches apart. "If that is the case, Gemma, then leave. Go and have fun dancing with Simon Middleton. Dance the whole bloody night away, for all I care. Then go to bed with him. But don't be surprised when it's my bloody name you cry out when he makes you –,"

She cuts me off with a stinging slap to the side of my face. _I can't believe he just said that! _

"What is it that upsets you so, Gemma?" I say softly, touching my cheek gingerly. "The fact that I am leaving or the fact that you are afraid you won't be able to resist the Honorable Simon Middleton anymore?"

Her troubled face drains of color and a tear rolls down her white cheek. "Everyone wants us to be together. I – even a part of me feels like we should be." She looks up at me with a pleading look in her eyes. "But I can't live like that, Kartik! I cannot live with the pressure of having to pretend to be someone I am not! He would hate me if he knew the truth…"

She looks so small right now, and I long to comfort her. "Then he does not deserve you, Gem," I whisper. She lets her head rest against the wall, but says nothing. "Do you love him?" I ask quietly, my heart thumping in anticipation.

She shakes her head slightly. _Not like I love you. _Her pink lips turn down at the corners sadly. "There is something about him that I want to trust. Sometimes, when I do not want this life anymore, I picture myself with him. But it does not make me happy. Perhaps if circumstances were different, then maybe…But they are not."

"Gemma, I love you."

"I know, Kartik," she smiles slightly. "And I love you."

"But damn it, Gem, you drive me mad sometimes."

"Oh?" Her face is a mask feigning innocence.

"You get all worried about everything, yet you do not heed your own warnings. And now, here we are, fully consummated in another world, yet you're driving a stake between us in this one."

She arches a brow. "Excuse me, _you're _the one leaving. How can this be _my _fault?"

"Because you do not realize that the success of our relationship does not rest solely upon my shoulders. I will be gone, yes, but I still want to be with you. If you want me too, then how can things end?"

"Because my family will force me to attend balls and events and meet men and eventually, I will have to accept someone's courtship lest rumors spread," she says coldly.

I sigh. "Then enjoy your season, Gemma. I am not asking you to resist meeting people. But be defiant; you don't always to do what you are told. That is what I love about you."

She lowers her eyes coyly. "And what of last night?"

I cannot stop the smile that crosses my face. "Like a dream, was it not?"

She blushes. "I did not mean to say what I did. About being ruined, I mean. I don't think you ruined me. I am still chaste in this world."

"I know. We both said some things we didn't mean," I say simply. "We share more than secrets now, Gem."

She raises her hand to softly stroke my cheek. _I am sorry I hit you. _

_It's okay, I deserved it. _I kiss her lips gently, their soft pressure sending small waves of pleasure down my belly. "You know," I say. "It will be hard resisting you now that I've had you in the realms. I may start to think I am entitled to it in this world."

She gives me a haughty look. "You would never take me without my consent, Kartik."

I place my open mouth against her neck, sucking at the white skin there. She gasps and her hand goes to the back of my head. I press my leg in between her thighs and she moans slightly. "Of course not," I say, tearing my mouth away. "Because I know you'd want it too damn much."

She looks at me with an unreadable expression. I release her from the entrapment I've created against the wall. She stands limply, defeated. Smiling sadly, she bows her head. "You're right, Kartik. I _would _want it too much. So perhaps it is a good thing you are leaving for the time being."

I watch in bemusement as her eyes boldly travel the length of my body. I cup her porcelain cheek and turn her face to mine. "You should go now, Gem, before they wake up."

"Yes, I should." She doesn't move. I pull her into an embrace. "We're doomed, darling," she says into my neck.

"Then at least we are doomed together." I release her with a smile. She returns it sweetly. My heart still aches dully from our fight, but the pressure has been lifted significantly. I reach for a blanket that had been kicked free from my fitful sleep the night before and hand it to her.

"Here," I say as she takes it, puzzled. "The night will no longer cover you."

She nods, wrapping the blanket around her body. The dusky pink glow of morning makes her look rosy, like a cherub in one of Michelangelo's paintings. I hope this will be the first of many mornings waking up to the lovely Gemma Doyle in my bed, though I'd rather not experience any more fights, as they leave me feeling drained.

She cannot resist kissing me again, a token that things are okay between us again. She turns to leave, but I stop her.

"Gemma?" She turns around. "Will you come visit me later today? I want to see you all dressed up."

"I will." She closes my door with a click and I return to my bed. The next few months will be lonely without her, and the fact makes me sad.

But as I close my eyes to catch a few more hours of sleep I cannot help but feel giddy, for I've finally seen her naked!

**I have no idea what to say. Kartik is still a teenager! I just thought it'd be funny for, after all they had been through, Kartik to just be happy he saw her in the nuddy-pants. I mean, he's already seen all of her friends in the buff! **

**I did not want to make the sex scene cliche, nor did I want to make it pornographic. To clarify something, Gemma IS still chaste in the real world, because time doesn't pass when they are in the realms, etc. Someone wanted a fight, you got the fight. I hope I kept it as plausible and passionate as possible.**

**More clarifications: I rewrote parts of the first 3 chapters, so please reread if you have time. I tried to tone the first 2 chapters down, and I've taken out the part where Kartik and Mr. Doyle talk. After thinking it through, I agree that his acceptance makes the relationship a little less special. Plus, it makes for a good fight!**

**About my Zidane-y baby - he's not actually mine. I just forgot to mention that I'm raising him for a class and that we're auctioning off the yearlings on April 29th. So expect me to be absolutely heartbroken, because I am incredibly attached to him as it is. He did the cutest thing ever. I was wearing Burt's Bees lip balm, which is minty, and I gave him a kiss on the nose. I guess he smelled the mint, because his eyes went wide and he stretched his face to me and bumped my mouth with his nose a couple of times. I LOVE HIM!! On the bright side, my friend Michelle might buy him, so I'll get to see him grow up, hopefully.**

**Um, I've come up with a middle name for Gemma. Gemma Rose Doyle has a good ring to it. Now does anyone have any ideas for a last name for Kartik?**

**Reviews are lovely, especially when they are specific as to certain parts that are good and ones that need fixing. If you get a chance, maybe comment on my rewrites? Special thanks to Necily for praising this fic to Libba Bray on her LiveJournal! When I read it, I was like OMG! I can't even begin to express how flattered I am. The best I can do, I suppose, is keep writing to the best of my ability.**

**It's almost 4am,  
LunaEquus  
**


	8. Goodbye My Lover

**Short and sweet. Last chapter!**

After I crept back to my room, I fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted from last night's events. The clock next to my bed read 5:07 am, so I figured I'd at least have an extra two hours of sleep to refresh myself. My head felt foggy, as if everything was a blur. I know now that it was just the magic we took back with us, but that knowledge was swept under the rug during our argument. Though we were reconciled in the end, things were still said that hurt, and I couldn't help but still feel a bit of resentment towards Kartik, as much as I didn't want to.

I was woken up at 7 am on the dot, by a flustered and blushing Emily.

"Miss, Miss! Please! You must wake up! Your grandmother requires your presence right this moment!"

"Huh?" was all I could reply as I squinted my eyes at the blaring sunlight then pouring in through the parted curtains. It seemed that last night's storm had brought good weather after all. I only wished I could have said the same for Kartik and me.

Little did I know that my abrupt and rushed awakening would set the tone for most of the day. I rarely had time to even think for myself as servants and seamstresses flitted around me like hummingbirds, with my grandmother at the center barking orders. I was bathed, powdered, and preened into ladylike perfection, though I can't say I ever had the chance to acknowledge it.

My corset was new and flattering, cinching my waist in to a painful eighteen inches. The bloomers were lace, the stockings were silk, and the gown was the most extravagant of all. It was of the finest, most buttery silk I have ever touched, overlaid with Chantilly lace and pearls. Pearls, for a June birthday, my grandmother said.

And all through this whirlwind of feminine enhancement, my thoughts kept straying to Kartik. What if things weren't really okay between us? What if he left without saying goodbye? Of course, all of these ill thoughts were just due to nerves; however, I couldn't help but feel nauseated all the same. Thought that could be in part due to my measly breakfast of nothing, for "We don't want you bloating up and not fitting into your dress!" So color me confused. After all, I thought this was my birthday. If not for the fact that I didn't want people to gossip, I would have gorged myself on birthday cake just to spite my grandmother. But living in spite hasn't exactly brought me far, so I resisted that notion.

And then, finally, after my grandmother deemed me presentable, it was time to attend my coming out ball. The carriage pulled round and I waited, quite breathlessly, in fact, to see Kartik's reaction to my appearance. I was not, however, prepared for his. This was quite the formal affair, and I had overlooked the fact that he too would have to arrive in style. And stylish he was! He stood, a vision in pinstriped grandeur, waiting to help me into the carriage. As we glanced at each other, almost shyly I noted, his eyes widened and his beautiful lips parted just so, as if to convey his awe and appreciation. I had never wished more for the magic of the realms to be at my disposal than at that time, so I could read his thoughts.

The moment was brief, but it haunted me all evening. The decorations were lovely and the food was nothing short of decadent, but I couldn't help thinking how I'd rather be eating dosa in a dirty tavern with Kartik.

The evening was pleasant and rather uneventful by my standards. Felicity was at my side wherever I turned, as always, but this time was different. She saw the change in me. She saw the longing in my eyes and knew who it was for. Ever since my night in the realms with Kartik, the need to be near him increased tenfold. And that scared me. However am I supposed to survive months, perhaps even years without him if I could not live through this night?

And then there was the dancing. Of course, as I was the guest of honor, I rarely had time to sit down. Needless to say, Simon asked me to dance more than once. I accepted the first time, and declined the second, and have never felt freer about doing so. My obvious decision to choose Kartik over Simon or any other man that may come along had, if nothing else, taken that particular burden off my shoulders. It was my choice, and there is no going back, but I do not regret it. After all, there are no wrong choices, only different ones.

And because of that feeling, the sense that I had made perhaps the most important choice of my life without any one else's opinions to sway me, an odd sense of calmness took over my body. Whenever ill thoughts threatened to make me cry or vomit, all I had to do was remember that Kartik chose me as well, and anyone can tell that Kartik never takes things very lightly.

So for that revelation, I was surprisingly at peace when Simon approached me towards the end of the night. I had nearly succeeded at avoiding him for as long as possible, but if there's anything at fault with Simon Middleton, it's that he doesn't realize (or care) when he is not wanted.

"Miss Doyle," he said, walking up to my side. He looked exceptionally handsome, and I felt a blush rising in my cheeks. But then I thought of how Kartik's legs looked in his new trousers and was instantly sobered.

"Good evening, Mr. Middleton. I hope you are enjoying yourself?"

"Quite so. But are _you_ enjoying yourself?" Something about his tone angered me, as did the look in his eyes. It was if he expected me to fall all over myself and flirt with him. I had had enough of such expectations.

"I am having a lovely time, Mr. Middleton. In fact," I pretended to study my dance card. "It appears I have a dance with someone now. A good night to you."

"Wait, Gemma," he said, grabbing my hand. "May I call on you sometime?"

For a moment, I pictured my life being courted by Simon Middleton again. _I could be normal. _I could give in to the tides and be carried away by society. It'd be so much easier than trying to swim. _But I'd drown that much faster._

"No."

His blue eyes widened. "What?" His voice was but a mere whisper. "Why not?"

"There is someone else." And with that, I left him, unsure if his crushed face was because he truly cared for me, or if for once, he didn't get what he wanted.

* * *

So now I stand, alone in the parlor, drowned in darkness. My family is fast asleep on the floors above me, yet here I am, wide awake and still fully dressed. I had promised Kartik that I'd visit him in my finery, yet I never had the chance to.

With precise, quiet steps, I make my way from the house to the stables, a vision in ivory silk and lace. When I step into the barn, careful to lift the hem of my gown, I am greeted by nothing but more darkness. Despair settles into my stomach as I realize he must have given up on me.

I turn around to face the moonlit yard. The moon is but half of her former glory, slowly returning to complete darkness. The breeze blows a familiar scent over the air, less potent, yet more desirable than the smell of horses.

"Waning gibbous," Kartik says, referring to the moon's phase, as he wraps his arms around me from behind.

"I thought you went to bed," I say as I nestle into his warmth.

"I knew you'd come."

His finger gently guides my chin to meet him in a kiss. "You look beautiful, Gem," he whispers against my lips. It sends a chill down my spine. All thoughts of our fight are lost as I turn in his embrace to face him. I hold his face with my hands and kiss him deeply.

"Come," he says, leading me into the barn. I stumble over something in the dark.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can talk."

I stop. "Wait." My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. I see that I had tripped over a dandy brush tossed carelessly on the ground. Kartik looks at me expectantly. His finer clothing really displays his figure well, a fact that makes my face feel hot. I had _seen _that magnificent body.

I curtsy. "I saved you the last dance."

His mouth curls into a smile as he bows to me. I take his hand and we fall into step, our bodies warm against each other. "So, Lady Whatsit, I daresay you had a wonderful time at your ball?"

"Oh Lord Hoity-Toity, it was marvelous! Though quite a bit tedious, I must say." He grins in response. "Although," I say, dropping the act. "Simon Middleton asked to call on me."

Kartik's smile falters. I can tell he is trying not to jump to conclusions. "Did he?"

"I told him not to."

Kartik can't hide his surprise. "I thought it wouldn't be fair to you," I whisper. Kartik cocks his head slightly in question.

"And what of you?"

I shake my head. "I cannot quite remember what was so charming about him in the first place." It is a lie, but a slight one, to put him at ease. Kartik knows this and acknowledges it with a small smile.

"Thank you, Gemma."

"So what would you like to talk about?"

"Ah yes," Kartik navigates me towards the carriage. "Allow me, miss." With a swift motion, he leaps into the carriage and pulls me in after him, shutting the door as I sit down. We are immediately covered in darkness.

"Kartik?" I try to sense where he is. I am rather nervous, for anything could be crawling about in this carriage. A spider, a mouse, Kartik's hands…

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine.

"Just a moment, Gemma. Ah, there." Lantern light floods the carriage, warming me up again with its soft orange glow. Shadows dance as Kartik places the lantern at our feet. "Now no one will see the light and know we're here," he murmurs.

My heart lurches into a frenzied heartbeat as he moves to the seat next to me and places his mouth on my neck, lightly kissing and licking the skin there. My hands travel to his neck and shoulders, desperate to feel his heat through my satin gloves.

Suddenly he stops and looks at me, his expression strange and searching. "Gemma?"

"Yes?"

"This is our last night together for awhile."

"I know," I say sadly. He watches as I pull off my gloves, one finger at a time.

"I was wondering…" he trails off.

I glance up at him. His face is unreadable as his fingers twitch restlessly at his sides. He reaches for something in his pocket, holding it tightly in his hand, but says nothing. I look at his fist curiously, pointedly, yet the silence is not broken.

"Kartik?" I begin cautiously.

"Hold on," he says, looking up and moving his lips slightly, as if rehearsing something in his head. His large eyes eventually return to mine. They are nervous, but hopeful. He opens his hand. In it lies a small ring of the finest gold filigree I have ever seen. Still, he says nothing.

I look at him expectantly. He blanches. "I forgot what I was going to say," he explains, a panicked expression forming on his face.

"Take your time," I say, trying to sound soothing. My voice betrays my excitement, for I know the gist of what he is trying to say.

He inhales and exhales loudly, then turns to me again. "Gemma, I know that our relationship is quite out of the ordinary, and probably quite doomed."

I snort at this. His startled eyes betray his bemusement for a moment, and then the nervousness is back. "However, we are all going to die anyway." He grimaces slightly at his word usage.

I nod encouragingly, but he shakes his head. "This is going completely wrong," he says sadly.

"You're doing fine, Kartik!" I cannot help but grin at the fact that he's the flustered one for once. He fixes his eyes on mine.

"I love you, Gemma," he says softly. "What I'm trying to say is that I hope that my love is enough for you." He holds up the ring. It sparkles in the lamp's light. "I know it's not much…but will you wear it?"

My breath catches in my throat and I feel my head nod slightly. I watch in slow motion as he places the ring on my finger; it is a near perfect fit.

"Gemma?"

"Hm?" I realize that my head is still nodding. I break out into a huge grin and throw my arms around him. I feel his heart beating frantically against my chest as pulls me in tightly. "Yes! I shall wear it always!"

Kartik makes a strangled happy noise and embraces me tighter. I raise my hand and gaze at it over his shoulder. The thin gold band looks perfect on my finger, delicate and understated. It feels as light as a feather, nothing like the pearl brooch Simon once gave me, forced on me, rather. Kartik at least asked me permission. Perhaps that made all the difference.

Our embrace loosens and I pull away slightly to look at him. His dancing eyes peer at me from under black strands of hair that have fallen out of oiled obedience. I reach out and finger them appreciatively. He takes my outstretched hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my palm sweetly. "Do you mean it, Gem?" he whispers softly, his large eyes shining.

I shrug, feigning disinterest. "I suppose I do."

Kartik cleverly catches on right away. He narrows his eyes at me, but they twinkle with laughter all the same. I stick my tongue out at him, which he takes as an invitation to another kiss.

"So," he says breathlessly a few moments later. "This will be a night to remember."

I stare, transfixed by the light reflecting off his moist lips. I run the tip of my finger ever so lightly along his bottom lip. He gazes at me with his doleful eyes.

"Gem, you know I have to do this," he whispers.

"I know," I respond softly.

"I need to have some sort of identity, some ground to stand on."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," I say, smiling weakly. There is a stillness in the air as we hold each other's gaze for what seems like hours. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, so I look away.

"Perhaps I should get back now."

Kartik jumps from his seat to open the carriage door for me. I wait for the lantern to be extinguished and for Kartik to step down from the carriage.

"Will you write to me?" I ask, looking at the ground.

"Every day."

My lower lip quivers and I fear I shall start to cry. _Send him off with a smile, Gem! _"I am not going to say good bye, Kartik."

"Then neither will I," he says. "Look at me." He cups my chin and tilts my head upwards. The moment I meet his eyes, a tear escapes down my cheek.

I smile shakily. "Good luck," I whisper. "I love you."

I break his gaze and turn away. I cannot bear to even kiss him goodbye, for I know I would never be able to stop. He doesn't try to stop me as I hurry through the thick darkness to the safety of my bedroom. The tears flow freely now as I imagine the seemingly endless stretch of days without him.

I am still sniffling miserably as I crawl into bed. A gentle rustling noise grabs my attention as my head settles upon the feather pillow. I reach underneath and grasp a piece of parchment. I gaze in wonder at the words written there.

"I love you too."

It is so simple, so unlike his past notes that I cannot help but smile. I turn onto my stomach and let my mind wander at what life will be like when Kartik returns until I fall into a deep sleep.

**I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. That's why it has taken so long for an update. What do you think?**

**Only the epilogue left!**

**I can't think of anything clever to say,  
LunaEquus**


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

I suppose you are wondering what the future held for Kartik and Gemma, but I shall spare you the details. I'll skip right over the letters (addressed to Gemma's _female _pen pal, appropriately deemed Kali, for security reasons of course) that were written almost daily by each corresponding lovebird. I won't bore you with the talk of how Kartik was reunited with his parents (his mother, of course was ecstatic to see her baby boy all grown up, and his father was stoic, as many fathers are, but one could surely see the tears that slid from his dark eyes as he shook his son's hand, then gave way into a crushing embrace). And must you know how our favorite rebel Rakshana novitiate stumbled upon his father's business, a successful export company, and returned to Gemma wearing an expensive, (yet casually un-tucked and unbuttoned) custom-made suit?

No, these details are not particularly important, especially since the present is so much more exciting. Well, perhaps you will want to know about the wedding, with all the fashionable people of both race, tolerant of each other because of money and business, but secretly envious of one another. "So barbaric!" the well-bred English ladies exclaimed quietly about the fashion in which the Indian women danced and carried themselves, all while secretly noting which things to try later that very night in front of their husbands.

And I suppose you'd want to know what Gemma's family thought of the union. Well, Mr. Doyle was not very disapproving, as he was quite fond of India and its inhabitants. In fact, he greatly enjoyed the company of Kartik's father, the reputable Mr. Ambani of Bombay, and the two talked cleverly about exports and shipping (and inevitably, inheritances) all day.

Tom, at first appalled at his lack of control over his sister, finally gave in to the fact that, no, he could not keep such a free spirit caged, and yes, it was probably his fault from that time when he dropped her as an infant.

Gemma's grandmother was less willing to accept Gemma's decision, and gave her Hell throughout wedding plans and dress fittings, and in fact right up to the wedding ceremony, until Kartik's mother greeted her warmly wearing the latest fashion and plenty of jewels. Certain her granddaughter was not going to be a black mark on the family name, perhaps just a gray smudge, Mrs. William Doyle gave in and enjoyed watching her granddaughter sparkle with happiness.

Gemma's friends attended the wedding, of course, and were for the most part thrilled to see her so happy. And what became of them, you may ask? Well, Ann did take her job as a governess much to Gemma and Felicity's dismay. However, all hope was not lost. Not soon after did she take her post in her cousin's home, said cousin hired a new pianist for social gatherings, deeming the previous one unfashionable. The pianist had a handsome face and a kind smile, and he instantly fell in love with Ann's voice as soon as he heard her giving the girls their singing lessons. The two have been courting each other ever since, and it has been noted that Ann has last been seen sporting a lovely diamond on her ring finger and a lovely smile on her face.

But what about Miss Felicity Worthington? Well, to say that she was unconditionally happy for Gemma's marriage would be a lie, as she had hoped to be the first to marry. But for once, she kept her mouth quiet and let Gemma soak up the spotlight like she deserved. And then there was the Honorable Simon Middleton, whom, if anything was just a bit jealous and confused about Gemma's choice for a fiancé. "What made her choose _him_?" he asked Felicity during the reception.

With a cool glare at Simon, she replied, "Because he is a gentleman, which is more than you'll ever amount to." Simon considered retaliating, but shrugged it off.

"May I have this dance, Miss Worthington?" he asked with a bow. Too shocked to brush him off, Felicity took his hand without a word. Their engagement was announced not three weeks later.

And after the lovely wedding came the lovely honeymoon in fashionable Paris. So many things to see and places to shop, but Kartik and Gemma somehow managed to overlook all of that. When asked their opinions on this and that, they could only reply in vague terms, for they hadn't actually seen any of it. What they could tell you, however, was how comfortable the floor was, how spacious the bathtub was, and how patient the housekeepers were.

"But Gemma, how was Paris, _really?_" Felicity asked as Kartik cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Well the croissants were quite good," Gemma replied, giggling behind her gloved fingers. Those same fingers, that just moments later, performed lewd gestures and measurements the moment her husband turned away.

After a fortnight in romantic Paris, it was time for the couple to return to England and start their life together in their very own home. They bickered over every detail of the decorating process, not that either particularly cared, they just wanted to be right for once. Each of their little fights usually ended in christening whichever room they were discussing and finally deciding on a paint color or fabric swatch that neither of them had brought up in the first place. The entire process was rather exhausting, but certainly rewarding, and they both couldn't wait to move to India and start the whole procedure over again.

But as Kartik made the travel plans, Gemma came down with an unfortunate stomach bug. And wouldn't it turn out that Gemma's wretched morning sickness was due to pregnancy, and not just hangovers from too much whiskey with her friends, as Kartik often teased her it was. So all throughout fall and winter, when Gemma and Kartik reflected on their first year together and how neither of them could ever imagine where they'd be in five years, their child grew and developed until one day in late February, when Gemma screamed and cried and told Kartik that she was never sleeping with him again. And poor Kartik, having nearly fainted from the pressure of what was happening at the time, almost believed her.

So then, of course, you will want to know all about beautiful little Rosemary Victoria Ambani, born 7 pounds, 4 ounces, on February 24th, 1901. After 9 hours and 16 minutes of labor and pacing, Kartik and Gemma were blessed with their very first child. After taking one look at the wrinkled, red, screaming face, they both decided easily that she was perfection. And when she opened her tiny eyes for the first time, neither of the proud parents were very surprised to see bright green orbs peering back at them from behind long lashes.

If there was anyone that thought either Gemma or Kartik was beautiful, and I assure you, there were, then they would be beside themselves at the sight of little Rosie, as Kartik affectionately deemed her. Soft, black curls framed her face sweetly and her skin was the color of café au lait. She toddled around on unsteady legs, never having to make it very far without being swept into the arms of one of her loving parents.

Rosie had a lot of things, like the other children she played with. She had the toys, the books, and a pet bunny named Potato. But what she had that her little friends didn't, was a mother that always had room on her soft lap and a father that always had time to tuck her in at night.

Rosie didn't know why she was so lucky, but she knew that she was. She had her father to teach her how to ride her first pony (also named Potato, for that was her first and favorite word), instead of a mean stranger that yelled at her when she fell off. She had her mother to read her bedtime stories of magical places filled with hope and wonder instead of a nanny that sent her to bed with gruesome stories that had her friends crying themselves to sleep. She also had two very rich godparents, both of which wanted to outdo the other in terms of lavish gifts to their godchild.

Simon and Felicity Middleton visited often, much to Kartik's dismay. He always paid extra attention to his wife when they came round, a notion that never went unnoticed to Gemma, who thought it was sweet, really. Those were the days that led to the nights where she paid extra attention to him as well. So in time, Kartik began looking forward to those visits, as it meant he would be justly rewarded for putting up with the fop.

And then there were the nights that little Rosie stayed over at a friend's house. The serving staff was dismissed, and Kartik and Gemma had the house to themselves. Though they were each a little older, a little wiser, at heart they were still the same as they always had been. They'd drink some wine and dance in the kitchen, where the polished wood floors made it easier for Gemma to twirl, for she had never been a graceful girl. They'd laugh and talk, and dream and reminisce, about how things were, are, and may be. And sometimes, when perhaps the wine took its toll a little harsher than expected, they'd sneak out to the stables and pretend they were seventeen again.

**Over! Wahh! I wanted to end on a happy note. Nobody ever writes them being together and accepted, so I gave it a shot.**

**Your thoughts?**

**I have to say bye-bye to Zidane on Sunday. That's when the auction is. I'm a bit heartbroken!**

**I'm in class right now,  
LunaEquus**


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